


Law & Gravity

by HappyDagger



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captivity, Controlling Behavior, Crazy ex-boyfriend, Drug Use, Drugs, Heroin, Lawyers, Loss of Control, M/M, Murder, Needles, Obsessive Behavior, Overdosing, Past Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Possessive Behavior, Pre-lawsuit, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reluctant Theon, TW: Abusive Relationship, Theon Greyjoy is a Little Shit, Theon you ignorant slut, Victim Blaming, offensive language, offensive main character tbh, tw: heroin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21946873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDagger/pseuds/HappyDagger
Summary: What did Theon do now? It was a misunderstanding. A fuck up, fine, but he's not a bad guy.He came back to The North to settle things quickly and leave undetected.But that's not his luck.Or: A situation in which Theon is reluctantly forced to accept help from his crazy ex-boyfriend.Part I   EntrapmentPart II  FindingPart III Movement
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 272
Kudos: 192





	1. Part I : Entrapment- Chapter 1 Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part I: The Law of Gravity

_There is no goddamn way._ Yet here he came, walking through a dense cloud of shock and inevitability. _You have got to be fucking kidding me,_ Theon thought, fist tensing around the papers in his hand. Mere moments after consoling himself that this day -this month- had reached the absolute limits of shit, Ramsay fucking Bolton shows up.

He could have guessed though. The nerves jangling in his gut told Theon this would happen the moment he stepped off the train and back onto Northern soil. 

Theon hates The North.

‘Clean’ would never have described the Ramsay Theon remembered, but now the word rung in Theon’s head like church bells chiming the hour, loud and pangy enough to cut through the salty winds at home. Jarring yet expected. 

Ramsay’s bright dead-of-winter grey eyes were clear and focused, his gait straight and exact. In short, the new, clean-cut Ramsay approaching Theon in a suit tailored precisely to his more fleshed-out frame looked **sober**.

 _You are getting faaaat._ Theon reached for the cigarettes in his back pocket, remembering he couldn’t smoke in here just as his fingertips brushed the cardboard.

It was imperative not to look. Even though Ramsay was heading his way, with luck, Theon might go unnoticed. 

“Aren’t you going to say ‘Hello’?”

 _Shit._ Theon slowly forced his eyes to the dreaded target. 

Ramsay’s irises are inhuman. Hypnotizing. Terrible. “Hello.” 

Ramsay smiled, and that’s another fucking thing! His smile is so sharp, so real and vivid. 

Ramsay, in reality, is a walking, talking trap to fall into. Already, Theon felt the pull- everything quickly becoming fake and hollow in comparison. “What are you doing here?” His voice had also filled out, become fuller, though he’d always been loud.

Theon pulled out his mobile -Why didn’t he bring headphones?!- and frowned at the time. “I’m meeting someone.”

“Why are you meeting with a lawyer?”

“I didn’t say-” but why else would he be standing in front of an attorney’s office with papers in his hand? So he shrugged. “Just some bullshit.” _Now wrap it up._ “Well, you look great. I can’t believe you really…”No, _that_ wasn’t going anywhere good. “I’m impressed. You’re a goddamn lawyer,” he laughed, choking on the last word.

So here’s yet another fucking thing about Ramsay; he sees _everything._

Does he feel what anyone else feels? Nope. Does he even care what you feel? Only if he can use those feelings against you. Well, since he’s dead inside surely he can’t understand what you feel, right? WRONG! He understands better than anybody! _It’s such fucking bullshit._

“I’m happy to see you. But you don’t look happy, Theon. You look stressed out.”

See?

“What are you so angry about?” Ramsay reached for Theon’s papers. 

“No,” Theon spun away and clutched the papers to his chest. He blushed feeling immediately like a child. “It’s nothing.”

Another thing- oh, yes! There’s more! Ramsay is Bruce-Lee-fast with his movements. He’s not enormous, but he’s strong. Why? How? Theon never saw him go to the gym, and it’s not FAIR because Theon works out constantly! Theon looks great, of course, but why the hell should Ramsay just be BORN faster and stronger?

“Well, Alysane landed a huge case down in Deepwood. Her assistant should have referred you to someone else.” Ramsay yanked the rolled-up papers from Theon’s hand. “Good assistants are impossible to find.”

Theon shut his mouth before the ‘Hey!’ erupted from it and pressed his lips in sour determination. “Well, nobody told me. I’ve been waiting here for twenty damn minutes.” His fingertips pressed into his throbbing forehead. 

“Seven hells. Who the fuck were you seeing before?”

“Seeing?” Theon’s chest tightened.

Ramsay’s eyes flicked up from devouring the paperwork. “Who did you previously hire to represent you?”

“I didn’t. I thought…”

Ramsay didn’t have to call him an idiot, Theon knew what that look meant.

“It should have been so simple! HR said they would de-a… moderate-”

“Mediate,” Ramsay corrected. He shook his head and flipped through the papers scanning each one. “You spilled shit on your interrogatories.”

“It’s just a copy.”

Ramsay hit Theon with the look again.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Ramsay raised an eyebrow and put the papers back in order. “This _is_ bullshit.”

“I know, right?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“You… what does that mean?”

Ramsay tilted his head in disappointment.

“What?” Theon yelped defensively.

“Listen to me, if you don’t take care of this, your life is over. Do you understand? No? How are you going to pay for an attorney?”

“I have a job too, actually.” _Had._ “I’m pretty good at it.”

“What, on some island?”

“Harlaw,” Theon said through gritted teeth.

“But the trial will be here in Winterfell.”

“Trial?!”

“Are you going to get a job here?”

Theon rolled his head up burning holes in the ceiling. “I don’t know. Sure.”

“Yeah, sure. How much of your inheritance have you burned through?”

Theon sighed, dropping his head to face Ramsay again. “I still have most of it, thanks.”

“Does that mean your sister has most of it?” Ramsay laughed at Theon’s pitiful frown and slapped his shoulder. “I thought so. Where are you staying?”

“With a friend.”

“Robb?”

“No.”

“I heard Robb has a wife now. That must be awkward for you.”

“It’s _not_ Robb.”

“Did you ferry your car over?”

Theon shook his head. “I didn’t think this would take very long.”

A true lawyer, when making his case, Ramsay never asked questions unless he knew the answer. Ramsay laid an arm across Theon’s shoulders. “Right. Well, my office is closed.” 

Glancing around Theon found, indeed, they appeared to be alone in the high rise suite of offices. Only the fountain by the entryway several stories below was making a sound. Ramsay led him to the glass elevator Theon had avoided when he came in. In-and-out without being noticed had been the plan for the meeting; his plan for the North.

“Luckily for you, I can work from home.”


	2. Attraction

Shimmering shades of black and brown lazily stretched into warped rainbows across Ramsay’s mahogany desk. Ramsay’s enormous house was also clean, just like his father’s used to be. 

In his teens and early twenties, Ramsay’s bedroom had existed in a continual state of chaos; people in and out, a good amount of them strangers who’d never return, food and bottles of alcohol littered everywhere, baggies of pills, powders, and weed in the sock drawer he never bothered to close. Ramsay never used condoms with Theon, yet Theon could always find a torn wrapper if he cared to search the floor. 

Now his home was clean, cold, and quiet. He almost looked like a big fat version of his father but with more hair and capable of horrible smiles.

When he noticed the boot tray by the garage entry, Theon had taken his shoes off and left them there without being told. Ramsay liked that.

“Don’t look so sad,” he said. 

Theon’s large seafoam green eyes met Ramsay’s. His head rested in one hand while he lightly traced wood grain with the other. He gave Ramsay a smile.

“That’s my-” Theon’s lips parted, his smile turning into O shaped eyes and mouth. 

Ramsay smirked as the oxygen fled the room. “Relax.”

Theon searched his surroundings as if it had just now occurred to him to locate an exit. “Where is everyone? I mean, you can’t clean all this yourself.”

Ramsay snorted. “Some rooms.”

Theon waited for more.

“I come home late from work.”

“Then you work even later?”

Ramsay’s voice softened. “Yeah. I guess you can’t pay a fucker enough to stay until 4 or even 2.” Ramsay never needed much sleep. He needs excitement more; something to _do,_ something interesting.

“Hey, um, would you have a charger I could use? My battery is at like 16%.” Theon held out an android cellphone for Ramsay to save. 

“Sorry. I’m an iPhone guy.”

“Really?” Theon asked in the incredulous way Ramsay hates. 

“ _Really_ ,” Ramsay bit out. 

Theon itched the sleeve of his hoodie, getting cagey. “But you don’t have a Mac?”

“I’m using my firm’s secure laptop. Because I’m _working_. For you. I’m not googling images of your worm food mom to jerk off to.”

“Nice. Asshole.”

Ramsay laughed and reached for a drink that wasn’t there. 

“Coffee?”

Ramsay’s fingers pressed millimeters into the space separating them. “How about wine instead?”

“Thanks, but I shouldn’t.”

“There’s a binder behind you labeled S.H. It’s two shelves below the portrait.”

With a nod, Theon stood to get it. He even pushed his chair in. Ramsay supposed he wasn’t this orderly at whatever cockroach-infested, cum-stained apartment he rented on the Iron Islands. 

“I’ll be right back.”

When Ramsay returned to his office with an open bottle of wine and two long-stemmed glasses, Theon was standing in front of the desk holding -yes- the correct binder with white knuckles. His eyes flitted around the room. 

“Sit down.”

“I don’t need a drink, thanks. Who’s the portrait of?”

Ramsay placed a glass in front of him anyway. “That was Domeric.” 

“Oh.” A sympathetic look pained Theon’s face, which was the point. 

People feel more comfortable with a stranger, even one they’ve hired, when that person appears somewhat vulnerable. Vulnerability isn’t something Ramsay can offer, however, but the gone-too-soon, too-painful-to-talk-about, looks-just-like-you headshot of his dead half-brother served as the perfect substitute.

Red wine glugged up to the top of the glass. Theon sat down, taking it. “Thanks.”

“Sure. It makes the interrogation easier.”

“The what?”

“We went over the basics on the ride over but there are still important details to nail down.”

“Wait, I don’t how I’m- I mean, we never discussed what I’ll owe you.”

Ramsay snapped his fingers and pointed at Theon. “That leads to my first question. Do you have your wallet on you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Theon leaned to one side and pulled it out. “What do you need?”

“Your _wallet.”_ After Ramsay snatched it from Theon, his hand was free to carry wine to his soft mouth. 

Inside it Ramsay found a twenty-dollar bill, a bank card, two credit cards, Theon’s driver’s license, and several of his business cards. He took the twenty and slid it in his pocket then plucked out a business card. “That’s good. So, you’re a con-sult-ant?” Ramsay peered up at Theon with a knowing smile. “Interesting. Are you a winer and diner, Theon? I bet you just charm the _pants_ off of people.”

Warm pink lightly splotched Theon’s cheeks and neck. “I’m doing all right.” 

“Nervous?”

“No.” Theon set his glass down as if that would hide the quiver in his hand. 

“Don’t be. This suit is a joke. Assault? With no photos, no video, no witness, not a mark on her? They overshot.”

“Yeah, my HR guy said she would probably drop the suit and settle out of court.”

“Of course! That gets her your money without spending too much of her own. Did you tell this girl about your inheritance?”

“I…”

“Do not bullshit me, Theon.” He flinched when Ramsay stood to take off his suit jacket. “Tell me everything I ask you to. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I think I mentioned it.”

Ramsay hung his jacket over the back of his chair before sitting back down. “Bragged about it even?”

With a bashful dip of his head, Theon scratched the back of his loose waves of golden-brown hair. “Maybe in passing.”

“You got to know her pretty well?”

“Not really.” 

_But you wanted to._ “Did you sleep with her?”

“No! No, nothing like that.” After Theon gulped down the rest of his wine like it was air, Ramsay kindly refilled his glass. “It was stupid... I was stupid. They only called it ‘assault’ because I touched her. I didn’t _hurt_ anybody. I scored a major win for our biggest client that evening. We were celebrating. I misread the situation, and I apologized. I don’t know what else she fucking wants from me.”

“Your money,” Ramsay laughed. “Were you drinking?”

“ _I_ wasn’t.”

“She was?”

“Lots of people were; the whole team.”

“Team? You scored a big win for your team, huh? Are you a lobbyist or a little league pitcher?”

Theon cracked a lopsided smile. “The CEO is very into ‘productive collaboration’ and shit.”

Ramsay’s nose wrinkled in disgust. He split open the S. H. binder and found the tab for the section he wanted. “I’m going to draft a response to send her lawyer.” He giggled, remembering who that was. “This will be way too easy.” 

When he glanced up, beaming a wicked grin, Theon’s shoulders slumped into relaxing. He leaned forward, eyes wider. “Really?”

That ‘Really?’- Theon’s I-can’t-believe-how-amazing-you-are ‘Really?’- is one of Ramsay’s favorite things to hear. It had been so long since Ramsay heard it.

It’s been 12 years, 11 months, and 21 days since they last talked at all. 

“Promise.”


	3. Pull

“Theon?”

“What?” He jerked up to sitting. 

“Lay down in the loveseat. It’s very comfortable.”

“I’m awake.”

“You don’t have to stay awake. I only need you to answer a handful of questions while I start on the paperwork.” Ramsay looked up from the mess of papers spread before him and pointed to Theon’s scribbling at the bottom of the form Alysane had emailed him. “Like what the hell is this sentence?”

“Let me see.”

Ramsay crooked his finger twice, indicating that he didn’t plan on disrupting the layout he’d arranged by handing papers over. 

With a back-bending stretch, Theon stood and walked around the desk. He covered a yawn as he bent down. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. After midnight. This.” Ramsay tapped on the paper. “What the fuck does this say? Where're your glasses?”

“You remember that?” Of course, he did, though Theon would bet good money Ramsay couldn’t remember the name of the largest planet in the solar system or who wrote Macbeth. Ramsay had barely graduated high school. Mr. Bolton would often tell Ramsay, as cuttingly as possible, that his complete lack of concern was to blame. If Theon had his doubts then, he didn’t now. Ramsay’s steel-trap mind retained everything of interest to him and discarded the rest. 

“Are you still weird about things touching your eyes?”

Theon gritted his teeth. “It’s not weird. Sticking plastic in your eyes is weird.”

“So where are your glasses?”

“I don’t need them.”

“Oh, really? Is that how being short-sighted works? Gets better with age?”

Mr. Bolton must have threatened and bribed the right people to get Ramsay through college, but the first time he humiliated a classmate in law school, Ramsay would have found a wealth of reasons to care, power not being the least of them.

“I’m- it’s fine. This says, ‘proper recourse’ and this says ‘should have been redressed immediately’.”

“You’re talking about what **she** should have done?” 

“I was her superior. I told her so many times-”

Ramsay held the stapled papers up. “Who else has seen this?”

“No one.”

 _“No one_ , Theon?”

“No, no one else!”

“Well, thank the fucking gods for that. Don’t ever talk to a judge or jury this way. Is that how you talk to your clients? Do you pretend to yourself that you exude authority?”

“Well… what?”

“Of course not. You’d be driving a fucking Uber if you did. You’re not likable when you do that shit. You sound like a prick.”

It wouldn’t sting if Theon disagreed. “So, what? What am I supposed to do then?”

Ramsay spun his leather office chair to face Theon and crossed his arms. “Show me.”

“What?”

“You know exactly what to do. Now show me.”

“Show you?” Theon shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Ramsay raised an eyebrow. “I think you do.”

“Is this about... like... _payment?”_

Ramsay answered with barking laughter. “You stupid whore!”

“Oh, fuck you, Bolton! I wasn’t- that’s not what I meant.”

“That’s hot.” Ramsay bared his sharp grin. “Look, you want a cell phone charger? I have one. How are you going to ask me?”

The bottle of wine was still half full. Theon decided to refill his glass again. “I don’t want to pl-” but the words caught in his throat and turned his stomach.

Playing games had a different meaning here, alone with him. It was through playing games that Ramsay had found a fist-sized collapse button in Theon’s stomach. “I should really go.”

“Come on, I’m serious,” Ramsay said more gently. “Don’t try to be a tough guy. No one believes it. People will only put up with your bullshit as long as they absolutely have to, resenting you the whole time. That’s what really happened with Kyra, right?”

“What?”

“She thought you were cute until you wanted her to respect you. You tried to prove you were powerful but she never bought it. You pushed, she rolled her eyes. Then, at your little celebration, she was too familiar with you,” Ramsay tsked, “in front of _everyone,_ including your new CEO who tells you bringing in star clients for big retainers makes him _so_ proud of you. I bet you were his special MVP. Were you, Theon? Then when Kyra got sloppy drunk and embarrassed you in front of all the big boys, you had to convince everyone that she wasn’t teasing you because she sees you as non-threatening, but that she was _flirting_ with you because she _admires_ you. Because she wants your fat wallet and fatter cock. Right? How good would that feel on Theon’s wounded ego?”

Blinking his dewy eyes, Theon finished the rest of the glass and emptied the bottle into it.

“But, you were sober. That’s what really saves your ass from grabbing hers. You stopped, recognizing the fear on her face. You stepped back and apologized.”

“I really thought she liked me.”

“I know. I believe you. You convinced yourself she wanted you. Who wouldn’t? Wasn't she flirting with you? What else do you call stealing your drinks and messing your hair? Hadn't she been texting you at all hours? And that dress? Your Human Resources manager wrote that it was 'provocative.' But listen, are you listening?”

Theon nodded.

“You didn’t grab her ass, you put your hand on her hip. Do you understand me?”

“I put my hand on her hip.” Theon eyed the glass in his hand. 

“Don’t finish it yet. Someone with big balls can walk through life waving their dick around, Theon. But when you do it, everyone smells the bitch in you.”

“The what?!”

“Keep it up and you'll turn into Nixon, wandering hallways, yelling at paintings. ‘They never respected me! They’re all against me! Ohhh, why won’t they listen?’ See? You know I’m right.”

“You’re funny,” Theon said, slurring a little. “That doesn’t make you right. You were always funny.”

“There. That’s what you do.”

A few pieces of hair stuck to Theon’s forehead. He smoothed them away. “What are you talking about? Why do you have to talk so goddamned fast...”

Ramsay kicked the side of Theon’s calf with his barefoot. “Come on. Come on. Ask me for the charger. Do it. You’re good at it.”

A shy smile slowly crept upon Theon’s face. He looked to Ramsay with a twinkle in his heavy, pleading eyes. “Please. Help me out?”

“There you go. That’s what you know how to do. Make people feel like you’re a miserable cunt who laughs at everyone. Except for them. Because they’re the only one in the world smart enough and special enough to be in on the joke with you.”

Unable to withstand the nakedness of it, Theon broke away from Ramsay’s gaze. 

“We’re going to re-write your answers tomorrow and they’re going to be more like that.”

“Tomorrow?” Theon rubbed his eyes. “But I need to go.”

“Well, I can’t use this horseshit, Theon.” Ramsay tossed the pages of ‘horseshit’ testimony at Theon’s chest.

“Ok, that’s-I understand. Seriously, could I please use your charger though?”

“I don’t have a fucking Android charger."

"But you said-"

"I lied; that’s what I know how to do.”

“Funny.”

“Right?!”


	4. Inverse

“So, what does it say here and here where you spilled some shit?”

The glow of the laptop illuminated the paper Ramsay pointed to. Theon sank to one knee and squinted at the stained section. 

“Why didn’t you bring your glasses?”

“Because they make me look stupid,” Theon hissed.

Ramsay laughed and messed Theon’s hair. “You are stupid,” he said with an affectionate purr in his voice.

Theon bolted upright, clenching his fists. “We’re not friends!”

Heartbeats passed in silence.

Theon had shocked himself sober. The severity of Ramsay’s expression made him want to eat those words. Ramsay’s anguish is a dangerous thing. Unfortunately, Theon was one of two people left alive with the unique ability to cause it. “I’m sorry.” 

“Tell me what it says.” Ramsay gestured to his computer’s screen and smiled bitterly. “I almost finished the first draft of my response. Then we’ll be done for now.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I already feel like a fucking asshole loser so I didn’t take your joke well, ok? I appreciate your help, but you don’t have to do this, you know?”

“You wrote ‘the last thing I said to her-’ then it becomes illegible.”

Theon kneaded the back of his neck where it met his pounding skull. When he raised his glass of wine, Ramsay took it from him and poured it the trash can under his desk. Theon flinched again when the glass clanked against the finished wood.

“Do you remember the last thing you said to her?” Ramsay asked evenly.

“I don’t really want to say,” Theon whispered.

“You have to tell me. Don’t worry, I couldn’t use it against you even if I wanted to. I’d be disbarred.”

“But-”

“You know about attorney-client privilege, right? You paid me twenty dollars for services rendered and pending; you are my client. Just be honest with me or I can’t help you. Here, hold on.” Ramsay spun and tapped on his laptop.

A printer behind him hummed on and started drumming out papers. Ramsay held out his hand, cupped to receive a stapler and, for once, the person bothering him responded correctly. After he patted the papers into order and stapled them, Theon put the stapler back where he got it from. 

“Don’t lean on my desk.”

“I didn’t.”

“That’s why I said ‘don’t lean on my desk’ not _‘stop_ leaning on my desk.’”

Theon slowly put his hands up. “I won’t lean on your desk.”

“Good. I have everything in the order I need.” Ramsay flipped through the pages, smoothing sticky arrows on each one. “Here’s our contract.” He placed it in front of Theon instead of sliding it across his desk and clicked a pen before placing it in Theon’s hand. “Sign where the arrows point. Don’t worry about dating anything.”

Theon picked up the papers but Ramsay slapped them back down. “On the desk. Your handwriting is terrible.”

“But… shouldn’t you read anything before signing it?”

Ramsay looked appalled. “No! Seven Hells-” he took a breath and slipped back into a professional tone, “If one of your clients gave you a contract to sign, who read it? You?”

Theon shook his head. “We had a legal department-“

“Exactly. **I** read shit before **I** sign it. **You** have your lawyer read it before you sign. And guess what?”

“Ok, I get it,” Theon mumbled, looking ill. He sank to his knee again and signed where Ramsay pointed. But less than halfway through the six pages he stopped. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

“Nope. It’s a nice house but not indoor-plumbing-nice.” Ramsay had warmed again and what made Theon feel sicker is he _knew_ Ramsay would calm down once he fell into place and did it anyhow. Did it for that reason.

Ramsay spoke slowly. “You think you can hold it for a fucking minute so you can sign four more times for me, slugger? Give me a good try.”

“I’m gonna puke.”

Ramsay laughed and clapped Theon’s back. “No, you aren’t. You’re getting sweaty though. Why don’t you take your jacket off?”

“I don’t feel good. I need to think about-”

“You wanna smoke?” That got Theon to focus. “Finish up and I’ll take you outside. You can get some air and have one of the shitty cigarettes you’ve been itching for.” He kept his hand where it had landed on the center of Theon’s back and felt his shoulders ease. “You have to write out your full name here. Sign here. Initial here, here and here. Good!” He gave Theon’s back a pat, his hand so close to Theon’s neck when Theon erupted into standing again.

“Down the hall to your right, second door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Theon stuffed his hands in his pockets and hurried out like a thief. Maybe he needed to puke after all.

After he washed his hands and face, Theon gripped the sides of a perfectly ordinary, rather nice porcelain sink and searched his reflection for a way back to normal. He jumped when Ramsay knocked on the door.

“You ok?”

“Yep- yeah. It’s, I mean, I’m all… fine… in here.” 

“You talk for a living?”

“Shut up!” 

Ramsay giggled in response. 

Theon stood up straight and took a deep breath. Turns out he wasn’t as drunk as he’d thought. Sobriety was making him sick this time. He screwed his eyes shut and told himself, again, _Ramsay is not your fucking friend._

“Are you spending the night in the bathroom? Do you want a sleeping bag and pillow?”

Slowly opening the door, Theon peered out looking pale. 

Apparently, leaning against _the wall_ was fine. Ramsay’s styled hair looked softer like he’d been combing it with his fingers. He used to do that, pacing his bedroom, while mulling over what to tell his father about whatever fresh disaster he could no longer hide. He’d bounce ideas off of Theon and it always felt like they’d worked out a plan together, even if the plan involved explaining away Theon’s split lip or bruised wrist.

“I found you a lighter.” He held up two cigars. “Want to smoke like a man instead of a runaway?”

A smile struggled against Theon’s serious mouth and lost. “Ok.”

Ramsay’s backyard was much smaller than Theon would have thought. An inground pool and the river rock tile running from his back porch to surround it took up most of the fenced-in area. 

“The, uh, lighting is nice.” Theon didn’t know shit about home decorating but he could usually bullshit something better than that. 

“Sit down.”

Theon obliged, taking a seat beside Ramsay. A small stained glass pedestal held a heavy glass ashtray between them. 

Ramsay cut, lit and puffed a cigar with his usual fluidity of quick, sure movement then handed it to Theon. 

“Thank you.” Theon took a drag then coughed into his fist.

Ramsay broke a smoke ring he’d just made when he lurched forward laughing. “You are so fucking stupid!”

“Shut up!” Theon turned away hoping his laughter was indistinguishable through his coughing. “You’re such an asshole!”

“I know. Haha.” He smiled at Theon, who bit his soft bottom lip. “It’s cute though.”

“Um, not really.”

“I mean how stupid you are. I’m cute in spite of being an asshole. I work out and shit to try to make up for it.”

“Hmm,” Theon smirked then ran his tongue across his teeth wrestling with something he wanted to say.

“What?” Ramsay prodded.

Theon’s eyes popped open unaware, as always, that he’d been caught again. He started to shake his head dismissively but even in the dim shine of stars and landscape lighting Ramsay’s impatience and determination were clear. Theon sighed. “I… it’s weird to say maybe, but I’m… it’s nice to see you sober.”

Ramsay nodded. “Nothing affected me until heroin so I didn’t think heroin would affect me. I thought I was pretty invincible.”

“A lot of kids do,” Theon said softly. 

“Oh, hey.” Ramsay sat up suddenly and reached around for a remote on the coffee table beside him. “Check this out. I just got it.” He hit a button and a lit fountain came on on a small rocky cliff overlooking the deep end of the pool. “Ta da.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah. You’re supposed to be able to set it to music or some shit but I can’t figure it out and the guy who set it up said he is ‘never coming out here again’ so I’m pretty fucked.”

“What did you do to him?”

“Oh, you sound like my fucking father you know that? What did _I_ do?”

Theon smiled. 

“ _He_ fucked _me!_ I paid those dickwads out the ass to set up this shit and he can’t wait in the fucking _shade_ while I take a quick business call? I wouldn’t have all this money to waste on stupid shit if I didn’t have an _actual_ job that not any gods damned monkey in Dickies and a polo shirt can do. And, yes, I occasionally have to take a 45-minute call on my day off!”

“A monkey, huh?” Theon shrugged. “At least you weren’t too upset.”

“I know! Right?! Sensitive fat ass retard faggot cunt.”

“A little respect can go a long way with guys like that,” Theon suggested. “They can come to a beautiful place like this and you’re dressed so well, and so important, it would be easy to start off feeling defensive.”

Ramsay exhaled more smoke and pointed his cigar at Theon. “That’s how I need you to answer questions. Anything that could involve this suit from now on. Understand me?”

“Yes. I told you ‘ _yes’_ already.”

“Don’t whine. I’m just being thorough-”

“I am not whining!”

“-because you lose focus and you’re easy to manipulate.”

“I’m not a kid anymore either, Bolton! Fuck! No, don’t look at me like that. I see how you’re laughing at me, dick.” Theon jabbed his chest. “I changed too. A lot!”

They took a few puffs and watched the fountain change colors. Ramsay used the remote to put on Philp Glass of all fucking things. 

“You didn’t need to change,” Ramsay said at last. 

Theon swallowed thickly and put his cigar out, smothering it in the ash-covered glass.

Ramsay tossed his in the pool. It fizzled when it sank beneath the still, clear water. “I did.” He stood up and slid his hands into his pockets. “I hate this music.”

Theon sputtered not to laugh. “What the hell is it?” 

“I don’t know. This thing takes CDs and my dad is the only person I know who still has any. So, are you up to finishing this? We’re almost done.”


	5. Force

When Theon sat on the loveseat hugging his knees, all the way on the other side of the room, Ramsay regretted offering it. “We’re down to one last question then I’ll email an informal counter offer before filing your suits. What was the last thing you said to Kyra?”

“My suits?” Theon’s arms slumped down his thighs. “What does that mean?”

“I could use some coffee, actually. Some prick threw my wine in the garbage.”

“What do you mean by ‘my suits’?”

“Right, _our_ suits. You remember where the kitchen is?”

Theon didn’t budge.

“We passed it. Twice. On the way outside and- listen, Theon, you have to countersue or her lawyer will file another suit for psychological damages, then loss of income, she’ll book a stay at a gorgeous rehab in High Garden and charge you for that and she’ll get away with it unless we affirm, immediately- that means tonight- and categorically that this lawsuit is simply a frothy load oozing out the deflated balloon that was your dead father’s anus.”

Theon’s eyes narrowed. 

“I’m serious. This paper, one you didn’t spill shit on, is a series of requests, which will become subpoenas if we don’t comply. The point is to discover and assess your total net worth. That includes property, Theon. You may think you don’t have that much money but they’re not stopping at your bank account. They want to know about anything in your name; houses, apartments, marinas, docks, cars, boats, land and it doesn’t matter one eyelash of a flea on a shit if you pinky swore pretty promised your sister the share. A verbal agreement doesn’t protect seized assets.” Ramsay leaned forward, elbows digging into the arms of his leather desk chair. “The point is, if you’re worth a million or two on paper her lawyer will keep telling judges, juries, the press, the internet: Theon hasn’t paid at all! He cleans cumm off his stomach with thousand dollar bills! They won’t stop until they bleed every commodity they can out of you. In the meantime, if you don’t sue daddy CEO and his little league team for their ice cream money-”

“I can’t do that!”

“-for wrongful termination, you won’t get a gods damned job a McDonalds. No one, and I mean _no one_ , hires sexual predators.”

The loveseat wrapped around Theon as he sank in despair. “But… Kyra isn’t in a great place right now. She doesn’t _have_ money to give me.”

“Hey, I didn’t create the situation where one of you has to burn; she did. If I was representing her I would have never harassed and libeled you as my _first_ fucking step. I would have _built_ a case before serving you with a carefully worded lawsuit that gave everyone room to reach a reasonable agreement. Unfortunately, someone told her to get a lawyer without specifying how things like board certification matter. She hired an ambulance chaser she can’t afford to pay, so he’s working off what she wins. You see how that works? He told her to get you fired and sue for big money because he’s taking more than half of it. Her lawyer gambled on your stupidity with her suffering; gambled big and fucking lost.”

Theon groaned into the palms of his hands. “I just wanted her to take my apology and leave me alone. Can’t we offer, like, five thousand and, you know, seal everything up?”

“Terrible idea. First, non-disclosure agreements are meant for corporate and government cases and courts don’t always uphold them. Second, even if it is enforced, you know how people break NDAs? With doctors, lawyers, police, psychologists, ‘fiction’, journalists, satire, and above all else rumors. Rumors kill careers, Theon and nothing supports a wild rumor like settling out of court for an undisclosed sum in return for a sealed case. And finally, no one takes a unilateral NDA so imagine someone asking you if it's true that you raped Kyra and having to answer, ‘I’m not allowed to discuss that.’ Does that sound like a happy ending?”

Theon’s hands fell away from his face. He stared at the ceiling and blinked a few times. 

“If we settle, no matter how we settle, it’s a shitty ending that can keep on shitting on for years. But if we countersue, when we win we’ll control the shit show. It’s the only way for this to really be over. I’m emailing Edmure Tully -her lawyer- a response as a professional courtesy. We’ll serve them and your consulting firm Monday. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” Theon rolled up off the loveseat and finally took off his jacket, tossing it over one round arm. “Black, right?” He slid a cigarette behind his ear and stole the lighter off Ramsay’s desk. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Ramsay called after him. He re-read the email and, happy with it, hit send. 

“Mmmm.” Ramsay had melted happily into his chair when Theon returned with coffee. “Why is it so much better when you make it?”

Theon pursed his lips. 

“It is! Coffee is better when you make it.”

Theon wandered around the office, looking at everything. “What's this?" He poked at a black orb hanging from a shelf."

"A camera. I mostly use it for practicing cross-examination with clients but it's convenient for recording testimony, you know, to work on refining at my leisure."

"It’s not black," Theon suddenly admitted. "Your coffee, I mean. I put a little sugar and cocoa in it. I said it was black because you were so determined to drink black coffee. It was, like, part of your vision for yourself.”

“Yeah and now my vision is FUCKED because I’ve been drinking MOCHAS!” 

Theon’s nose wrinkled. “I think a mocha is with espresso and milk.”

“So is this a pussy mocha?!”

“No, it’s super hardcore.”

“Good! Well, fucking get me marshmallows then!”

“No.”

“Little ones.”

“You’re not cute.”

“He said suspiciously apropos of nothing.”

A grin sparkled across Theon’s face then burned out. “Well… I should get going before sunrise.”

“Why? Are you a fucking vampire? Fine. I need you to give me access to all your social media accounts and answer the last question before you leave.”

“I am _not_ fucking doing that.”

Unimpressed with the objection, Ramsay beckoned Theon again. “Come look at this. In the time it took you to smoke a cigarette and make some hardcore mocha not-black coffee, I found a treasure trove of bad decision snapshots.”

At first, the terrible parts of Theon clicked with Ramsay, seeing what he saw and reaching the same conclusion. He felt relieved but guilt followed and swallowed the comfort. “Those do look bad but Kyra’s just having a hard time and looking for a good one.” They'd had that in common. “She likes to party but she’s not crazy or-”

“A whore? Tell that to her fucking Instagram, not me. Anyway, this is all public and I’m sure as hell going to use it. That might give Tully the bright idea to subpoena your social media accounts, texts, and so on. I need to go through it all and fix anything questionable _before_ then. At least you keep your accounts private as fuck, so congrats on that.”

“It’s all on my phone.”

Ramsay stood up from behind his desk. “Your passwords?”

“All on my dead cell phone.”

Ramsay squared his jaw and forced a tight smile. “Interesting.” He extended an open hand. “I guess I’ll have to charge it for you.”

There wasn’t a thing in the office to make a sound or tick away the time. It felt like an hour had passed before Theon finally pulled his phone from his front pocket and handed it over.

“Super.” Ramsay opened a desk drawer and bent down to plug Theon’s phone into the charger he’d 'forgotten' until this very moment. “Now, what was the last thing you said to her?”

Theon wiggled his big toe against its cotton sock and rubbed it into the tile. “I said… I told her she didn’t know what suffering was.”

Ramsay winced and began rolling up his sleeves. “That sounds like a threat.”

“I know,” Theon moaned. “But I didn’t mean it like that, really.”

“I understand exactly what you meant. Do you remember the last thing you said to me?”

Theon took a slow, careful step away. “Ramsay-”

“Neither do I. Do you know why? Because I didn’t know it would be the last time.”

With glacial movements, Theon began freeing his hands from his pockets. “Ramsay, listen, I’m sorry about that but I had to leave the way I did. I think you know that.”

“You could have told me-”

“I DID try to tell you! I told you, ‘I can’t do this anymore’!”

“Oh, you were always saying shit like that! You never meant it! You should have TOLD me you were leaving!”

“I tried before and that didn’t work out so fucking good for me!”

The tips of Ramsay’s fingers brushed his mahogany desktop as he slowly walked around it. “Didn’t it? Is that the _suffering_ you know so fucking well? That Kyra could never understand?”

Another small step back. “Ramsay, we didn’t have a healthy relationship.”

“Please,” Ramsay spat. “Because we fought? Couples fight!”

Needles churning in Theon’s stomach began stinging his eyes. “That wasn’t fighting.”

“Why? Because I won?” Ramsay’s grin cut through the bottle of wine in Theon’s blood. “Because I’m bigger and stronger than you? But you like that.”

“It was one-sided and you know it. _Every time,_ Ramsay.”

Locked onto their target, Ramsay’s effervescent gray eyes stalked Theon as he carefully kept a safe distance between them. “Don't be so fucking dramatic. It’s not like I sent you to the hospital.”

“I know.”

“I always stopped myself and that’s **hard** for me! It’s almost impossible the way YOU hurt me! I tore myself apart to stop from _really_ hurting you! It’s like stopping a train when I’m that fucking angry but I did it for YOU! Only YOU. That’s more than Father ever did for me, you little bitch!”

“I know, that Ramsay." He still kept his distance. "You’re not a bad person.”

Ramsay swallowed those words to keep deep inside.

"We just had a bad relationship."

"No, we didn't! I was _sick for awhile but_ I'm not now."

"I know. You’re right.” Theon sniffed and smiled softly. "I'm happy for you, Ramsay. Seriously. You're doing so much better-"

"I'M NOT!" Ramsay slammed a book, clearing the shelf it sat on. Domeric's photograph crashed, shattering on the floor. "It is NOT better without you! You don't understand anything!" He stole a shard of glass off the floor and came at Theon. Shoved him into the wall. Grabbed Theon’s cotton shirt collar in his raised fist.

Theon closed his eyes and braced himself, the way his body had learned to, many years ago.


	6. Magnitude

The wall behind him offered no refuge as Theon pushed back into it. He steeled himself as Ramsay pulled and tore through his shirt with halting rips. 

The shard clattered at their feet. Ramsay used both hands to split the mess of Theon’s shirt down the center. He exhaled seeing the silky white X he made on Theon’s olive-toned chest and dove in to kiss and bite it. 

Theon pried one eye open. So this was more about fucking than destroying; a relief, a sick rush, a need, a dread but not the end of him. Never that. Never will be. 

_Stop. Wait. Don’t. Ramsay._ His jaw only chattered. His mouth dry. 

Sharp kisses sucked up his chest to neck, making him squirm. Ramsay sensed it, like everything Theon tried to hide, and slammed into him. “Unf.” Theon tried to push back. To keep from being swallowed. “Ramsay-”

Deep, prying, demanding, Ramsay kissed Theon. Bit his tongue. Trapped between sharp teeth, it couldn’t wiggle out of anything. Theon jumped when Ramsay grabbed the waist of his pants. Theon _whimpered_. None of Ramsay’s needs could wait another instant. 

With clumsy hands, Theon slapped him away and tried pulling his tongue free. Ramsay growled into his mouth and bit down harder. 

“Ugh!” Theon yelped. 

Ramsay caught his thin, slippery wrists and stuck both to the wall in one hand before pulling away with a gasp. 

“Ow!”

“Shut up.”

He pulled and pushed Theon’s pants down his hips and ass while pinning him with a stare that allowed no pretense of confusion. Not of what this was. Not of who they were. Not of who each _belonged_ to. 

“I can’t come back-”

“Shut up.” 

Theon’s pants dropped to his ankles. “Ah, shit.” 

Their eyes were locked and Ramsay read the pained, flushed expression he found with a rush of joy and furious entitlement. He hoisted Theon up onto his hips, supporting his ass. _“Mine.”_ He took the side of Theon’s neck in his teeth to hold. Shoved him hard back into the wall when that didn’t work. 

“Okay,” Theon whispered, lightheaded. He wrapped his arms tight around Ramsay’s broad shoulders. Pressed his temple into Ramsay’s crown. 

Ramsay spun him and cleared the desk with one fast, sweeping stroke. He dropped Theon after bending down and unzipped to free himself. Plucking Theon’s sock off each foot won a smile. 

“You remember everything.”

“You’re weird hang-ups?”

“It’s _not_ weird.”

Ramsay climbed over Theon. His smile turned into the hurt he’d been raging against. So he bit it back and spit in his hand. 

“Fuck-” Theon arched back at Ramsay’s touch. “Ramsay…”

Ramsay rumbled an inarticulate response and slicked himself with both their weeping anticipation. 

“I was an asshole,” Theon whispered, voice cracking. 

“Shhh. It’s ok now.”

“She told me to stop.”

Ramsay froze. “Wait- _what?_ No, not now.”

“But…” Theon sniffed and blinked his eyes away from Ramsay’s. 

“Fuck. Did you lie to me? About the case?”

“No. I didn’t lie.”

“Did you leave anything else out?”

“No. Except I think I’m… not good. I just wanted to tell you.”

Ramsay sighed and gave two slow nods. “Confess to me when the suit is settled, baby. Ok?”

Theon nodded back. “Ah! Wait!”

“Shh, it’s ok. I’ll wait.” 

Theon exhaled, melting. 

“Isn’t that better?”

“Un-huh.”

Ramsay pet Theon’s soft waves of hair. Everything about him was complicated. Competing colors made his collage of brown-blond hair, blue-green eyes, pale-olive skin. “Ok?” Ramsay started slow. 

Theon gripped Ramsay’s shoulders and locked into his silver stare. 

Unable, unwilling, to hold back for long, Ramsay took the first cues available as a green light and wrapped his thick hand around the desk’s edge for leverage. 

When Theon’s eyes rolled back, Ramsay took a fist full of his hair to point his face at the red light on the wall facing them. He bent low, hard thrusts pounding Theon like a fist fight, and panted, “See that light, puppy? It sees you.”

Theon’s eyes widened, but his jaw was stuck slack.

Ramsay grinned, took Theon’s hips with digging fingers, fucked everything else out of their heads but this. 

Theon rubbed his head and tried to blink away the sunlight sneaking through his curtains. 

NOT his curtains.

He sat up and inhaled sharply. 

At last, Theon shuffled his way back into Ramsay’s office. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Ramsay sipped more of his coffee. Still wasn’t good as Theon’s. “Good news!”

“What did you do?”

“You will have to be more specific.”

Theon’s voice was shakier than he hoped. “There’s blood all over me.”

“Relax, it’s mine.” Ramsay kept typing with one hand while he held up the other. Gauze ran horizontally across his palm. “I guess that’s why sharp weapons have, you know, handles. I’m almost done. Our new legal assistant needs a trail of breadcrumbs to find the front fucking door.”

“Where are my shoes?”

“Do I look like the fucking cleaning lady?” Ramsay’s eyebrows popped. “Hope not.” He looked up from his laptop. “Hey, this wasn’t damaged from the tumble, by the way!” His mouth was pulled wide by a ‘yikes’ expression. “Almost caused myself a real problem last night.”

“Where’s my phone?”

“I’m not done with it.”

“Done? How the fuck did you unlock my phone?”

“With your little passed out thumb. Duh. So? Aren’t you excited to hear-”

“Ramsay Bolton! Where is my shit?”

“Don’t you wish I had a middle name? It just sounds like your announcing me.”

“I want my shoes, my wallet, my phone, my fucking _pants_ , and my keys back. Now.”

Ramsay closed his laptop and leaned back happily in his desk chair. “And I want daily blow jobs, foot rubs, and hand massages, better coffee than this, ass whenever I want it. Theon? Aren’t you going to write this down?”

“I hate you.”

“WOW. That is not nice at all.” Ramsay rubbed the edge of his ear, eyes dancing. “Wake up on the wrong side of my dick?”

Theon’s hands rose sharply to hide his face.

“You look super cute in my boxers. But that’s not the good news!”

Theon turned on his heel and ran for the bathroom. 

_There it is._ **_Now_** _, he has to puke._

Knocks on the door couldn’t get Theon back on his feet. The tile was nice and cold. The bathroom, nice and small. It had been quiet but now the knocks turned into pounding.

“Am I opening the door or you?” More knocking. “Theon?”

“Go away!”

“Me?”

“No! Leave me alone!” Theon’s head rolled back. He squeezed his eyes shut when the lock popped open. _“Please.”_

“Ew. Don’t worry, someone else will clean that up.”

Theon pulled away from Ramsay but didn’t have the energy to fight when Ramsay collected him and carried him out.

“Feel better?”

“No.”

“Yes, you do. Don’t pout.” Ramsay rubbed his nose in Theon’s hair. “Tully emailed me back already.”

Theon sat up in Ramsay’s arms. 

“They accepted the counteroffer. I mean, there are details to work out but- shit. I didn’t think he could be so reasonable.” Ramsay grinned. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

“Oh my god!” Theon hugged Ramsay’s neck. “Thank you! Oh, god!” 

Ramsay spun them and laughed. “Told you, you stupid, lucky, little shit. Too fucking easy.”

“I thought we had to sue her?”

“Not now we don’t. They’re dropping their suit and paying a small sum for my legal fees.”

“Really?!” Theon sank against Ramsay’s chest with relief. “What about the other suit?”

“You need a shower, some breakfast, and to make fewer demands.” Ramsay snapped at Theon’s neck.

Theon jumped and wrapped tighter around Ramsay’s shoulders. “But-”

Ramsay slipped into his bedroom, carrying Theon like a treasure.

Freshly fucked back into place, Theon was quiet, and pliant as Ramsay rubbed and patted him dry in the wide-open humid bathroom. “What did you want to tell me last night?”

“Only, I guess that I felt bad.”

Ramsay scrunched Theon’s hair with his thick towel. 

“Well, and that… I’m not usually like that. I’m never like that anymore.” 

“I know who you are, Theon.”

 _“I’m sorry I left you to die,”_ came running out of Theon’s mouth. “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t help. I didn’t want you to die.”

“Wha- no. You didn’t do any of that to me.”

“You didn’t love me anymore!”

“It’s a disease, ok?”

“Did you love _her_ enough to quit?”

“It doesn’t work- wait. Love _who_?”

“The party where this all started was outside of Winterfell. Kyra is from the North too. She said she’d have to remember the hotel we stayed at when she came back for her friend’s wedding. Her friend who was marrying a rich, creepy, lawyer with black hair and gray eyes.”

Ramsay’s upper lip curled slightly. “I’m not creepy, I’m charis-fucking-matic. So that’s why you’ve been all ‘Where is this and where is that? I have to go’ this whole time.”

“No. No, Ramsay, that is not why. At all. I just- I meant it when I said I’m glad you’re happy.”

“You sweet gods damned idiot.” 

“She sounds like a bitch by the way.”

“What?” Ramsay giggled. “She’s not, actually.”

“Well, Walda is a bitchy-sounding name.”

“It’s my stepmother’s name.”

Theon’s mouth stopped before forming his next thought. “Your _father_? No way.”

“Right? Poor girl.”

“But I thought she was like, _our_ age?”

“I know. It’s so gross.” Ramsay held his head with one hand. “She’s pregnant.”

“No!”

“Yes. That means his crusty dick is still working. Wait, don’t puke again. Let’s eat something.”

“Coffee is good.”

Half a smile and Theon’s gaze fell back into studying his soggy cereal. “So about suing my the consulting firm; what are my options, exactly?”

“Well, we can forget it, if you’d like.”

Theon looked up. “Really?”

“Yeah. I realized the only point in the wrongful termination suit was to ensure you could get a job again.”

“Ok…?”

"And I desperately need help.”

“Yeah,” Theon chortled. 

“Not like that, you cunt. I mean, you’ll work for me.”

Theon spit his coffee across the breakfast bar. 

“The thing is, there's this sex tape of you now. _Sex cloudfile?_ I don't know, I'm not a computer programmer. But if the video got out, it would make defending your honor against a dropped accusation moot. Lucky for you, I'm hiring. I'll pay you with room and board, food, and all that shit."

"..."

"Great! It's a deal."

Theon slowly set his mug down. “That is not happening.”

“Is that what you think?” Ramsay winked. 

Behind them, on the other side of a long stretch of thick windows, wispy snowflakes slowly danced down to the green-brown earth below. 

Theon sat back and held the breakfast bar with both hands. _There is no goddamn way._ Yet, he didn’t find any path away from Ramsay’s smile, so sharp, so real and vivid.


	7. Part II : Finding- Chapter 7 Constant

“Don’t look so sad.”

Theon glanced up from the coffee he’d been stirring. He tapped the spoon against the rim and slid the mug across the breakfast bar. 

“You’re a sore loser.” Ramsay sipped the coffee through a grin and kept stabbing his phone with his thumb.

“Who are you texting all the time?”

“I’m mostly emailing my partner and associates. I used to email my assistant a lot but I pawned her ass off on Luton this morning. Sometimes I’m emailing paralegals and clients, and you have no idea how outrageous that is, Theon. No idea. I have to micromanage the fuck out of this firm. That’s why- hey, look at me- that’s another reason you have to work for me. There are a lot of reasons, but that matters most.”

“Micromanaging?”

“Yeah. I have to do everything myself. Even though I’m a senior attorney, I’m not one of these bitches who can cross my fingers, hand everything off to my team, blow them a kiss and enjoy my weekend. You know what I mean?”

Theon’s furrowed brow indicated that he did _not_. 

“I’d never see you.”

Every time Theon looks away and utterly fails at suppressing a grin, Ramsay knows he won again, staked out more of Theon for his own. 

“Ramsay, I can’t just come back like,” he snapped his fingers, “ _that_.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s- things are complicated.”

“What’s the problem? Do you have a parrot at home?”

Theon bit his exhausted smile. “No.”

“Fish?”

“No. I’d like my things and to take care of my apartment, but there are also people-”

“Are you keeping a people, Theon?”

“What kind of fucking psycho does that?” Theon stood up and walked to the long stretch of thick glass that ran from his waist to the ceiling in the kitchen’s corner. 

“A successful psycho, I would say. Sounds hot, actually.”

The window was cool to Theon’s fingertips, not icy though snow dusted the woods outside. “Hmm.”

“Remember the goldfish I got you?”

“Um, Bruce?” Theon grinned over his shoulder. “God, he must have lived for like, two years. Where did we get him?”

“I won it.”

“Oh yeah. I was sure he was dead in that little baggie.”

“They turn upside down when they die.”

“Did he? You taught him tricks.”

“I did!”

Theon hugged his arms to his chest and returned to staring out the window. Neither one of them ever said it, of course, but that night at the carnival celebrated a turning point. After tireless work, daily, incremental changes, a lot of pain had begun to pay off. Things were getting better when Ramsay shot down five little wooden ducks to win Bruce for Theon. 

Immediately, Ramsay dragged Theon along to get Bruce a tank with a castle, skull, and some wispy seaweed looking thing. 

A few quality joints helped Ramsay decide Theon’s unblinking fish had real potential. He got Bruce a pink hoop and spent way too much time trying to make him a stunt fish. _Almost_ enough time to wear the joke out but Theon never learned to un-find Ramsay hilarious. The stunt fish training became a go-to for cheering Theon up. A substitute for apologies. 

  
A chime echoed softly throughout the house. 

“What the fuck is that?”

“Pizza.” Ramsay used his phone to open the gate. “Silver Jetta. I like silver Jetta guy, he’s fast and quiet.” He pocketed his phone and pointed at Theon’s face. “Stay here.”

Theon threw his hands up as soon as Ramsay turned to leave. 

Two pizza boxes in hand, Ramsay came back smiling. “Let’s eat in the dining room.” 

There were already napkins on the table. 

“Pepperoni?” Theon hung in the entryway. He’d pulled on one of Ramsay’s old hoodies. 

“Obviously. Sit down.”

It smelled great but Theon took his time slinking in. “I shouldn’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” His phone vibrated against the table. “Hold on. Ah, fuck. It’s Donella. I’m gonna fucking destroy her.” 

“Why?”

“Because I’m done holding her hand and walking her through how to take a fucking piss! She’s not my problem anymore. And yet, not only is she _still_ calling me but now she’s calling me on my own gods damned _unpaid_ time!”

The phone kept shaking furiously on the table. Theon extended an open hand.“I’ll help.”

After thinking a moment, Ramsay put the call on speaker and handed his phone over. 

“Thanks for calling Ramsay Bolton. He’s not available right now. This is Theon, can I help you?”

“Oh… are you his new assistant?”

“N-yye-ah. Who is this?”

“I go by Donna. I was hoping to get some feedback on my performance. The decision to… move me… laterally came as a surprise.”

“Sure, it must have been surprising. Mr. Bolton emphasized that he needs someone who can regularly work twelve-hour days when he hired me.”

_“Oh.”_

“Can I be honest with you, Donna?”

“Please.”

“Bolton made it sound like having you work for Luton was doing that guy a favor, but I think maybe Mr. Bolton did _you_ a favor as well. I already don’t know how long I can take this.”

While Donna laughed, Ramsay’s eyes narrowed. 

“Good luck, Theon. Hope I see you around the office.” She hung up.

“Hey!” Theon tossed Ramsay’s phone back to him. “Easy, right?”

“Were you flirting with her?”

“Seriously?” Theon rolled his eyes so hard that his head followed. “How old is she?”

“Older than us. Sit the fuck down already.” Ramsay’s eyes tracked Theon as he crossed the dining room to the table. 

With a huff, Theon landed in his seat. “Is that what you wanted or not? If you changed your mind, I understand.”

“I bet you would. But it’s already done. I faxed the paperwork in this morning. Yes, faxed. Father’s convinced it’s safer than email.”

Pizza cooled, untouched, in front of Theon. “Your father? You’re working for him?”

Rankled, Ramsay glared across the table. “He’s my partner.”

“Wow. How the shit do you do it?”

“Ha!” Ramsay’s prickly defenses dissolved. “I know right?!”

“There is no way he’s paying you a competitive wage.”

“No, he is. For the hours at the office, which he capped at 40 a week.”

Theon sunk in his chair with pity. “But you care about this. I mean, you like it, anyway. So you just end up working a part-time job at home for free?”

“Basically. I need help here.”

“Only here?”

“No.”

“Because you want us to hang out. So... you _want_ me to, like, go out in the world with you and actually talk to other people. Right?”

Ramsay slammed his fist on the table, making Theon jump. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“I am!”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Theon stilled, pinching a warm slice of pepperoni. “Well, I’ve been trying to tell you- I’m a pescatarian.”

“I thought you were agnostic.”

Unsure if that was a joke, Theon played his answer straight. “I stopped eating meat. Except for seafood.”

The shock and disgust on Ramsay’s face made Theon feel like his face had turned into a genital wart. “Why in the name of the gods would you do that? You’re back on the mainland now. There’s fresh meat that hasn’t been frozen, preserved, and deep-fried.” A realization sharpened Ramsay’s glare. “How long has this been going on?”

“Eight months. Off and on.”

“I see. And what is Mr. Eight-months-off-and-on’s name? Is that your people, Theon?”

“I don’t want to tell you her name.”

 _“What?_ Who? Gysella, your fag hag?”

“Damn it, Ramsay! Stay out of my phone! And by the way, I fuck her, you self-hating asshole.”

“Pfft. I’m the least self-hating person you know. Look, I mean… 80’s karaoke, Theon? ‘Let’s go shopping!’ Come on, get your head out of your ass.”

“That’s what you _do_ with a girlfriend!”

“Uh-huh. Well, that charade is over.”

“Give me my fucking phone back!”

“ _Give me my fucking phone back!_ That’s you. That’s what you sound like. Eat. Your pizza already. I got it FOR YOU.”

“Well, shut up for a second and I will!”

“Don’t-” Ramsay waited a beat, collecting himself. “Theon, I think you should either put that back onto the pizza you’re going to eat or into your mouth.”

The pepperoni slice Theon had peeled off began to weigh in his hand like a gun at a standoff. “You are _so_ mad about this. It’s ridiculous. _Ramsay.”_ His appeal didn’t land. “Fine.” Theon stuck his tongue out and placed the pepperoni on it.

Ramsay twitched with a fraction of a lunge.

“Achoo!”

Ramsay exploded out of his chair while Theon started laughing. 

“I ‘id’ehn ‘iht ‘eh ouht.” Theon put his hands up in surrender and stuck his tongue out to show, indeed, he didn’t spit it out.

Finger buzzing with restraint in Theon’s face, Ramsay didn’t remember circling the table. “Eat it. Don’t fucking choke, you gods damned idiot.”

Nodding, Theon swallowed through his muffled laughter. “Ahh.” He showed his empty mouth. 

Ramsay grabbed Theon by the jaw and pulled him up to standing. “Dellalo’s was our favorite pizza.”

“I know.” Theon hugged Ramsay’s waist. “It’s nice that you remember so much… about me.”

Ramsay’s fingers dragged down to Theon’s neck. “Pescatarian. What would Bruce think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I really thought I had this all wrapped up in 6 chapters. I finished it and thought, 'That's a good ending!' but it didn't stop. I think it will be 18 chapters now.
> 
>   
> 


	8. Matter

Warmth trickled onto Theon’s Adam’s apple. He touched his fingers to it and pulled them back to find bright red on his fingertips. “You’re bleeding.”

“No, I’m- oh.” The gauze crisscrossing Ramsay’s palm bloomed bright red in the center. He hung his other arm around Theon’s neck. “Shit. I’ll redress it.”

“You can’t do that with one hand.” 

“Can’t I? Look at this shit. Who did that? You?” 

Theon’s eyes dropped, following his hand. “What are you going to tell people about it?”

“Who cares? I won’t get grounded, Theon.” Ramsay squeezed Theon’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, I can take care of both of us.”

“Um, I can clean up the office while you fix your hand.” 

The shattered portrait still littered Ramsay’s office floor, another wound. Too raw for a stranger to touch. 

“It’s my mess.” Ramsay dragged his thumb across Theon’s cheekbone. 

He didn’t pull back when Ramsay’s forehead landed on his, but his heart thumped in his chest as if to push Ramsay away. “Are you going to reframe it?”

“No. I don’t need it anymore.” Ramsay stepped back and grabbed Theon by both shoulders. “Let’s have a fire.”

From the kitchen, they stepped out onto stone wrapping around the pool. The roof extended out ten feet to cover a porch area where Ramsay had a sleek but earthy fire pit installed.

Though the fire warmed him, Theon shivered in Ramsay’s loose-fitting clothes. His flat, rounded skateboarder-style tennis shoes kept sliding off Theon’s heels. His puffy camouflage jacket wrapped Theon in Ramsay’s smells. 

“Nice, huh?” He’d always loved burning things. Ramsay pinched Domeric’s portrait from the dustpan carrying it and dropped his half-brother’s unsmiling face into the fire. The photograph curled and wilted into the flames with the hiss of a retreating snake.

Pieces of wood frame and glass pelted the charred remains of the photograph when Ramsay overturned the dustpan and gave it a tense shake. He set the dustpan down and sat beside Theon on the comfortable bench that made an arch behind the fire. 

“Fuck Domeric,” Theon mumbled. 

Ramsay’s eyes darted over, shining with the light of the fire. 

Theon squinted back. “Sorry. I shouldn’t-”

“I don’t care. I don’t feel any different about things because he’s dead. It’s over now, that’s all.” Ramsay pulled Theon close enough to touch hips. “You appear to be drowning in remorse. That’s not for Domeric, is it?”

“It isn’t. And I’m _not._ Aren’t you cold?”

Ramsay answered with a for-the-last-time kind of _“No.”_

“Oh, my god!” Theon pushed Ramsay’s arm. “How’s your mom?”

“Mad at you.” Ramsay laughed. “You should have called her. She’s on Facebook now. You’d better friend her.”

“I would need my phone to do that.”

 _“I would need my phone to do that._ ” Ramsay’s eyes slid over, burning points. “That’s what you say to me? I’m _trying_ to have a nice night with you. I chopped that fucking wood while you took a shit and your sweet ass time getting dressed.”

“You did?”

“Yes! What are you smiling about, asshole?”

“That’s hot.”

“Hmm.” When Ramsay pushes the tip of his tongue into a smirk, it means his anger passed. Theon once had a portfolio of plans to manage Ramsay’s moods. It surprised him to find them all back at his immediate disposal, stored in muscle memory. 

Smiling at the wrong thing got Theon in this mess. In high school, Bolton and his boys were people to avoid. That’s all Theon knew about him and he didn’t even pay attention to that. 

The first week of tenth grade, Theon sat near the back of his third-period history class, rolling his wrist back and forth in the neon light. 

A mass shifted in the seat across and behind him. A thud on the desk. “What _the fuck_ are you _doing_?”

Without glancing back, Theon muttered, “Trying to decide if I look good with a tan or not.” The top of his arm was a smooth golden brown but underneath it turned a cool pale. Which was _him_?

The guy leaned forward. “Well, you’ll look great as a corpse.”

Theon turned then and, against all reasoning, grinned at Bolton. “Thanks!”

Even as he frowned, a smirk slowly curled Bolton’s mouth. 

Theon never shook Ramsay after that.

Pokes and prods got the fire to grow bright and hot again after shrinking in the comfortable quiet. Ramsay set the stick he’d used on the stone encircling the firepit and eased back into the bench.

“Do you think your mom will forgive me?” Theon said at last. 

“No shit, idiot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, cunt face. Don’t be so fucking dense.”

“You’re real sweet to me.”

Ramsay laughed. “Shut up.”

“So… the paperwork you faxed in, were those the papers you made me sign last night?”

“I didn’t put a gun to your head.”

“Ramsay?”

“What?” Ramsay snapped, smelling an unwelcome fight.

“You want us to get back together, don’t you? And you want things to be better this time?”

“Like it was _before,_ when it was good.”

“You- ok, fine. You want good things for us though?”

“I get the premise. Now, what’s your fucking question?”

“If you care, at all, about me being happy, you cannot keep tricking me.”

“Tricking you?!”

“Yes, like right now. You’re acting angry so I’ll get nervous and shut up. Then you won’t have to deal with the consequences of your choices.”

Ramsay leaned back to appraise Theon with a self-satisfied grin. “You went to therapy, didn’t you?”

“Don’t derail me.”

“How many hours of how many sessions did you spend talking about me? How much money did you pay to say my name and relive the memories you tried to hide from everyone else?”

“Shut. Your goddamn mouth.”

“Oh! Nice. A lot, huh? How did you come out on the other side of that? I bet it you didn’t reach the conclusion you were expecting.”

“How did you know about my CEO?”

Ramsay’s smile turned mocking. “Your last stand in daddy? No need to rehash the case; it’s settled.”

“You called him the ‘new CEO’ yesterday when you were talking about what happened at the party with Kyra. Why would you know anything about an Iron Island consulting firm?”

“I’m sure you mentioned it.”

“I didn’t.”

“All right, Sherlock, fine. I’m in litigation, ok? I regularly search public records for recently filed lawsuits. That’s how I find big clients.”

“Did you search _my name_ a lot? Is that how you knew my social media accounts were private? I guess you network with every lawyer you think is worth a damn in the North. You still run with a pack of amoral lackeys, except it’s all legal now.”

“And lucrative. I gave up a huge case in Deepwood just to see you again.”

Theon stared up into the sky and let vent a growling huff. “That is _not_ romantic.”

“Why not?”

“Did you even settle the suit against me?”

Ramsay stiffened. “Are you fucking kidding me? That joke of a case is **_nothing_**! I’ll show you our fucking website, then you’ll see the fucking shit **I** won. I _told_ you that dumb fuck Tully overshot! He didn’t put the work in! And, yes, _I_ did and you’re fucking welcome. Tully thumped his chest and counted on your bitch ass being rich and stupid enough to bend over and payout. No shit he wants to suck my dick to settle!”

“Okay,” Theon surrendered. “I am certain that you're an incredible attorney. It makes sense. I don’t have to see your greatest hits.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna. No one can play this fucked game like me because people like me _made_ the laws. It’s not clean and it’s all gray.”

“Was Domeric a lawyer?”

“Pfft. No. Father said he’d taken a break from Med school for cultural experiences or some shit when he suffocated on his own vomit. They found him in a hostile in Dragonstone. Getting his corpse back to Dreadfort took for fucking ever. Pain in the ass. He took that photo before his accident. That’s why he was different… fuller.”

“Oh.” Theon didn’t remember Domeric’s face though, only the sounds he made downstairs when he’d come home for holidays. He never forgot to keep clear of Boltons after that one fuck up he, it turns out, still had to contend with. 

The fire crackled under silent stars. 

“I couldn’t breathe when I heard. If Robb had the wrong name...”

“You didn’t come to the funeral.”

“I know,” Theon said under his breath. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.”

“That’s nice because father’s rather pissed off about it.” Ramsay laughed bitterly. “I’m still not sure if he made me detox out of duty or revenge. He fucking enjoyed himself…” Ramsay ran his tongue across his teeth. “You want a drink?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.”

“Stay.”

Theon threw his hands up when Ramsay stood and left for the kitchen. “Where the fuck am I going to go?”

A few minutes without Ramsay and the fire had cozied into glowing embers. He offered Theon a glass of scotch. A big round ice cube rolled in the golden center. 

Theon drew a steady breath. “So-”

“Oh, fuck you!” Ramsay stood over Theon, exasperated. “You gathered your courage while I got you a _drink_? I’m being NICE to you! Why can’t you just fucking appreciate it?!”

“Wow.”

“You’re too sober to be this gods damned annoying.” Ramsay sat down and poked the fire back to life. 

“I just want my things! My computer? My clothes? My car? Is that so fucking unreasonable? I know you hate the Islands but won’t this be more real when my shit is here?”

“I can get you better shit.”

“Listen, you want me to break up with Gysella, right? I need to do that in person.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about Jizz-ella and neither should you. She’s fine; I haven’t even sent her a frowny emoji. And she doesn’t seem worried about you, by the way. No texts, no calls, no messages. It’s already over.”

“She isn’t a possessive, controlling, manipulative asshole; that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care.”

“I said she’s not _worried_.”

“I’m a **Greyjoy**. What the fuck does she have to worry about?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, puppy. I see. You’re, like, the _man_?”

“What?!”

“Her Prince Charming or- no. She thinks you’re a rough, tough, baddie that softened up just for her. Are you a scary boy at home, Theon?” Ramsay sucked air through his teeth. “I think I have to send her the video. I don’t- listen- I don’t even _want_ to but it’s too fucking good. I actually **have** to.”

“Video?” Theon jumped to his feet. 

“Seriously, I don’t even have a choice.”

“Fuck this. Fuck you.”

“Where are you going, pet?”

Theon stomped back into the house. 

“Hey! Theon!” Ramsay rose from the bench. “There’s nowhere to go.”

The biting cold kept shaking Theon from his chest outward. He couldn’t feel his nose or toes and Ramsay’s house stained the gray sky behind him, well in sight. Ramsay’s car slid down his driveway. 

_“God damn it.”_

“The-on,” Ramsay yelled out the open passenger window of his black GTO. He honked the horn as he shouted, “The-on! The-on! The-on!” 

His bumper nudged Theon’s calf. 

“Fuck!” Theon hopped into the snow-dusted grass, but Ramsay’s left shoe didn’t make it with him. Theon’s hands balled into shivering fists. “Shit!”

Ramsay parked his car. “It’s below freezing and, if you’ll remember, it’s a twenty-minute drive to the city. That’s about three hours on foot and you’re already down to one shoe. My father _owns_ Dreadfort. Do you think he leases a centimeter of land within walking distance of his least favorite liability? Still think you’ll find a sympathetic neighbor? I might let you try when hypothermia isn’t part of the game.” 

“I don’t want to play games, I want my clothes and my phone, and my wallet.”

“I want you to get in my nice warm car because that hoodie is even thinner than the wet sock you’re wearing. I like how _my_ demand helps me _and you._ ” He leaned over and opened the passenger door. 

“Leave me alone.” The burning welling up through Theon turned him around and set him off toward the woods. 

“Hey!” 

The sound of Ramsay’s car door slamming pushed Theon faster but the pop of the trunk opening stopped him. 

“Hard way or easy way, I’m taking you home in my car. Which will it be?”

Theon’s eyes screwed shut. His head twitched then shook memories out. “Don’t- I’ll come back.” When he turned around, Ramsay finished his march, lunged forward and caught Theon’s arm. 

He yanked Theon and put him over his shoulder. 

“Wait, please, I’ll sit in the front with you.”

“It’s a short drive,” Ramsay grumbled. But he stopped in front of the car. “You’ll be good?”

The pressure on Theon’s diaphragm made it difficult to answer. “Yes.”

No reaction. 

“I’ll be good.”

Ramsay held Theon’s thighs tight and walked around to the back of the car. He slammed the trunk shut. “You ruined my shoe. I think I ran it over.”

Theon croaked out an apology and Ramsay set him in front of the open car door. He got inside and Ramsay buckled him in, even though they could see the house glowing in the rear-view mirror. 

In the garage, Theon stayed slumped in the passenger seat until Ramsay came to pull him out. “Come on.” He carried Theon like a prize he’d won, again, and kicked the door shut behind them as the garage tumbled down to reseal itself. 


	9. Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: please check the tags. Though the violence is mild, the chapter could possibly trigger survivors of abuse.

***

The next day, Theon scrambled to finish his homework before class started. Bolton pulled Jon out of the seat beside Theon and took his place. 

Jon frowned and it looked for an instant like he’d shove Bolton, but his cool head prevailed as usual. He grabbed his backpack and moved to the other side of the room.

Theon huffed and gathered his shit when Bolton’s boy Damon lumbered in. But Bolton grabbed his wrist. “Where the fuck are you going?”

Theon crooked an eyebrow. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah. Stay.”

“Let me finish this then we can talk.” He started on the last problem, squinting through the remnants of another hangover when Bolton grabbed his worksheet and crumpled it in both hands. 

“The fuck?” Theon jaw hung slack. “Do you know who the fuck I am?”

Damon snickered behind his friend’s shoulder. 

“I know exactly who you are.”

“Oh,” Theon nodded. “Shit, well you don’t have to be a dick, dude.” He tore a piece of paper from his notebook and scribbled the numbers. “Here.”

A smile slithered across Bolton’s psycho face then dried up. “What is this shit?”

“Call that number, dial that after the beep, then you enter your number and I’ll call you.”

Bolton’s eyes flashed but he spoke calmly. “Why do you have a pager?”

 _Right, ignore the 86-3 page,_ Theon noted. He shrugged. “My brother gave it to me. Nevermind, I misunderstood.” 

The teacher walked in. “Good morning, class.”

As if the room was empty, Bolton kept staring at Theon.

 _“What did you want then?”_ Theon whispered. 

Bolton rolled his eyes to give Theon a what-do-you-fucking-think look.

“A date?” Theon waggled his eyebrows. His smug lopsided grin actually told a self-deprecating joke.

He scrutinized Ramsay’s face when he didn’t get an answer, glanced around then pressed closer, wide-eyed. _“Really?”_

***

Without looking, Theon knew where Ramsay was carrying him so he kept his eyes closed. His course set, Ramsay’s pale eyes stayed fixed straight ahead. He threw his shoulder into his bedroom door. The knob banged deeper into a worn hole in the wall and vibrated as it slid back toward its frame. 

Theon grunted when he hit the mattress. His empty palms hovered in front of his shoulders. 

In Ramsay’s white hand, the hoodie’s zipper cut down the center if the cotton separating them like the glass shard through Theon’s ruined shirt. Ramsay tore his own hoodie off of Theon and threw it behind him, shoved Theon’s chest to knock him back the moment he sat up and ripped off the boxers he’d lent.

“Wait, slow down.”

Instead, Ramsay pulled his own hoodie up over his head, taking the shirt inside with it. He kicked off his boots and undid his jeans. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Ra-” The furious grip around Theon’s throat cut him off. Ramsay leaned over and clawed at his nightstand until he found the tube he needed. He freed Theon’s neck to force the fucking thing open. A thin piece of plastic wrapped around the pop top. 

_“Please,”_ Theon’s shrinking voice grew graveled. “I’m not ready.”

Ramsay tossed the plastic ring aside and squirted lube into his open palm. Theon pushed away and Ramsay grabbed him by both knees and yanked his ass closer. 

“Be. Good.”

“Stop!” Theon pushed himself up to sitting and caught the back of Ramsay’s hand.

Dizzy, but not stunned, Theon curled up where he’d hit the mattress and lightly touched his cheekbone.

“FUCK!” Ramsay froze. He sat back on his ankles and combed his hair with curled fingers, grimacing. He punched the wall over Theon’s head and climbed off the mattress. 

Still and silent, Theon watched Ramsay pace the foot of the bed.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Ramsay said. “We can fix this. It’s fine. We’ll- this is the start. There are adjustments. It will all work out.”

Very slowly, Theon inched his way up to sitting. “It’s okay, Ramsay. I’m right here.”

Ramsay stopped and glared at him. “You can’t do that. You can’t fucking say you’d rather _die_ than be with me.”

“I didn’t!”

“I’m _trying_ , Theon. Now I already FUCKED up! But what else am I supposed to do? Respect your autonomy too much to stop your idiotic fucking self-destructive dramatic gesture? Well, I don’t. That’s how it is, that’s how it’s gonna stay, and **that’s** what your dumb ass needs by the way.”

“But-”

Ramsay stabbed his chest with one finger. “ME.”

“I never ever said I wanted to fucking die!”

“No, you SHOWED me when you walked into the woods.”

“I stopped,” Theon said in a soft, calm voice. “I was upset but I stopped, Ramsay. I didn’t make it to the trees because I _stopped_ and went back with you. I’m right here. I didn’t go anywhere.”

Fingers running through his midnight hair, Ramsay finally took a seat on the edge of their bed. “Listen… I deleted the video, alright?” 

“You did?” Theon sank forward. “Really?”

“Yes, so you’re little tantrums won’t get me to entrap myself, understand?”

“What does that mean?”

“Right, like I don’t know.” Ramsay laughed when the sincerity of Theon’s blank stare registered. “I filmed myself committing a fucking crime, you idiot.”

“What crime?”

Ramsay rolled his eyes and stood. 

The shift in weight on the mattress made Theon sway. “What…no, oh, come on.”

Small joyless smirk on his face, Ramsay resumed pacing. 

“That’s not- I don’t know what you’re saying but whatever.”

“I never thought of it that way but I guess I would have assumed you did. Now you’re so defensive…” Ramsay trailed off, running his fingers through his hair again and thinking. 

“It’s not the same. Things that happened with you and me, I mean. It’s not like _that-_ a fucking ‘crime’.” Theon pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “So are you done being mad at me?”

“Sure.” Ramsay raked the back of his head. “I thought, if you left again, at least I’d have that but then I didn’t like watching it.”

The desire to drop this horrible conversation wrestled with Theon’s indignation and lost. “You _watched_ it? When-WHY?”

“To fucking beat off to while you slept the whole gods damned morning away, what do you think? I told you, I’m trying to be nice.”

“How is that nice?! No, don’t tell me.”

“To give your ass a break. You made a lot of whimpering sounds last night so I-”

“Shut up. I said don’t tell me.”

Ramsay pulled himself to his full height. “Do I look like your little faghag?”

“Would you _please_ stop calling her that?” Theon hugged his knees tighter to his chest. “No, Ramsay. She’s much prettier.”

“Then don’t fucking talk to me like I don’t own your ass.”

The words hit heavy on Theon’s chest. He clenched his jaw since his blank mind offered no retort.

“You know what? I tried being nice and it’s stupid. It’s not us and now everything’s fucked.”

‘Tried,’ ‘nice,’ ‘us,’ and ‘fucked’ circled Theon’s mind, colliding without coming together. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, you’re fine.” Ramsay’s sharp eyes targeted Theon. “I’m not a stranger, you know. It’s me. Me and you.” 

Theon’s dewey gaze was far away and nowhere.

“I didn’t have a gun. You said ok, I heard you. Theon.” He fell forward to smack Theon’s leg. “Theon!”

“What?” Theon mumbled.

“Stop! You’re fine.”

“Yeah.”

“Then. Fucking. Stop. It.”

“I’m not… what do you want from me?”

Ramsay crawled over him, his hands pushing against the wall on either side of Theon’s head. “You liked it.”

It was hard to swallow. “Yep, heh.” He found Ramsay’s eyes. “Can’t we just watch a movie or something? I don’t feel good.”

“I’ll take you to Harlaw, puppy. We’ll take care of your things and sell your car.”

“Sell?” The room tilted. “I need to take a shower.”

“No.”

Theon closed his blinking eyes a moment. _“Come on.”_

“You can take some of your things home with you. You don’t really want to meet Gysella when I’m there, do you?”

Theon’s head collapsed into his hands. “I don’t… she’s fine.”

“Good.” Ramsay pet Theon’s head. “You can’t leave again.”

When Theon looked up his eyes had turned a brilliant green. “Yes, I can.”

A sharp sneer flashed across Ramsay’s face and he pulled pack with a raised fist. 

But he stopped.

He took a shaky breath and laughed unevenly. “That’s not gonna work this time. If you want me to hit you, don’t push so fucking hard. I don't want to deal with Parkinson's twenty years from now because you kept running your gods damned mouth.”

Theon’s eyes bulged. “The fuck does that mean?”

“Your head, stupid. I can’t punch your fucking face all the time or you’ll get that brain trauma all the football players have. You know, like Ali? That wasn’t genetic and you are no fucking Ali, Theon.”

“I don’t _want_ you to hit me!”

”Bullshit.”

”I just want to go home! I want my life back!”

“THIS is your home! I AM your shitty life, and I know exactly who you are and what you want so please try to catch up any fucking time now.”

“You’re insane!”

“Ugh.” Ramsay shrugged, exasperated. “Have you _seen_ sanity? Oh, right. You did and it didn’t fit, did it?”

Theon looked away. 

“I’m not going to hurt your little girlfriend. She seems sweet and it never really worked. I know so don’t bother lying.” Ramsay took Theon’s face in both hands and redirected his gaze. “She’s a lamb, like you.”

Theon’s eyes and nose reddened. 

“You’re friends and that’s cute. You rutted against each other to pacify yourselves. I’m not mad. No, look at me. You don’t fit with _anyone else_ but me.” Ramsay’s intense stare relaxed. “I made similar mistakes.”

“Really?”

With a sigh, Ramsay sat back down in front of Theon and held onto his ankles. “It ended much worse than any of yours. I’m still beating you in all time fuck ups, loser.”

“Heh.” Theon sniffed. 

“They were more like me too, in all the wrong ways. I don’t want a wolf or monster I want you.” He lowered his voice, leaning in. “I meant to say that I have a huge bath with bubble jets when you asked about the shower earlier.”

Theon’s voice cracked when he laughed. “That’s what you meant to say?”

“Doesn’t that sound nice? You look so tired, puppy. You used to sleep on me all the time.”

“Because you’re exhausting.”

One by one, Ramsay pulled Theon’s limbs away from his chest, unfolding him like a flower opening for the sun. He traced the pearl white X on Theon’s treasure chest. “We’ll-I’ll get better.”

That night Theon slept deeply in Ramsay’s lap while he worked on his phone, his damp hair curled by the steamy bath. In his arms at night, sleep overtook Theon with ease and comforted him until morning. The terrible questions surfacing ran from Ramsay’s touch. 

***

“Do you think he’s lonely?” Theon watched Bruce circle his big jungle of a tank again.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid. If we get him another fish he’d have to fuck or kill it. I don’t want any baby fish, Theon.” Ramsay searched under his bed, again, and found the 8 ball this time. “Fucking Alyn! Paranoid shithead. Alright keep that gods damned phone by your side, Theon.”

Theon rose to his feet. “Wha- where are you going?”

“To see Damon. I’ll be back.”

“Wait, can’t I come? Ramsay,” Theon caught his jacket before Ramsay pulled it on. “I’ve been here, alone, a lot-”

“You have a bathroom, a mini fridge, movies and a phone. What else do you need, princess?”

“You.”

“Hmm.” Ramsay smirked and bit his tongue. “Lucky for you, I’m coming back.”

“Wait, but-” 

Ramsay shut down any further questions with a kiss then left, shutting the bedroom door behind him. 

As Bruce glided through changing colors, Theon sank down and stared out Ramsay’s window. 


	10. Multiply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and my outline for this story.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, yet the sight of the lock still threw Theon against Ramsay’s dresser.

“The fuck?” Ramsay looked up from his laptop. His hair made a soft black mess on his head. “Oh.” He placed his laptop beside him on their bed. “Don’t make yourself sick over that.”

“Why…”

“Because I don’t want the cleaning staff in certain rooms, this one least of all.”

“Are you leaving?” Theon kept staring at the lock on the bedroom door. 

“Not yet, it’s still early.”

“You aren’t taking me with you, are you?”

“Come back to bed.”

“Will you _ever_ take me to work?”

“Don’t dry heave.”

“I’m not.”

“I told you to come back here.”

At last, Theon tore his gaze from the lock and found Ramsay, who beckoned. 

“Actions have consequences. You tried to tell me that earlier, asked me to face mine. Why would I trust you to leave the house now?”

Theon’s cheeks went hollow as he slowly blinked. “Okay, okay.” But his bare feet were lead and the bed was a mile away. 

“You’re stuck?”

He nodded. 

“You break so easily, puppy.” The bed whined when Ramsay hopped off to close in on Theon. “I’ll be back tonight. I _am_ going to take you to work and to restaurants and shit but I have to trust you first. Hey,” he turned Theon’s chin to make him survey the room, “this is much nicer than my bedroom at Father’s. Well, I forgot the mini-fridge but I’ll bring you food and drinks and shit.”

“It’s only a few hours but…” Ramsay snaked an arm around Theon’s naked shoulders. “If you do anything irresponsible, instead of taking you out,” he caressed Theon’s neck, “we’ll change plans accordingly. I’m going to leave my phone with you and take yours. Answer me when I contact you. Father’s been calling me a lot, don’t answer him unless he calls three times in a row. In that case, well… maybe you can talk him into not coming over. Hey, look at me. Where do you keep going?”

Theon shook his head. “Nowhere.”

No WiFi, no books, nothing to draw with, but Theon had shelves of DVDs to let play in the background while alone. Only, nothing drowned out his own pathetic whimpering, the way he quietly begged when Ramsay slipped out his bedroom door. Theon didn’t cry then though, or when he heard the door lock click to trap him. He remained stoic until the garage door vibrated the floor and dropped with a boom. 

Even when he watched himself fall apart, sinking against the door, it was quiet and that felt like a small victory.

By the afternoon, he’d already done a lot of things: taken a bath, then a shower, answered Ramsay’s calls while sounding reasonably apathetic, drank water, and remembered how to hook up the DVD player. 

When picking a movie became an intolerable headache, he sat at the foot of the bed and made lists instead.

Things Theon liked about Gysella:

  * She’s calm and patient.
  * Her eyes are the kind of hazel that pulls you in. The colors get deeper and it nears her searching pupils.
  * She likes listening but doesn’t like judging. Gossip bores her.
  * She often snorts before laughing
  * Everything she collects, from pens to bedsheets, to friends is carefully chosen according to her private values.



Well, you can’t see how bad shit is when you’re in the middle of it. Ramsay supposed that was a blessing here. He’d changed into his oldest, cheapest (yard work) clothes on the ferry but he _still_ stood out for not being an obnoxious piece of shit like these gods damned krakens, strutting and hacking all around their small collection of skyscrapers as damp wind whistled through the city. 

Everyone smokes on the islands. It’s disgusting. Still, maybe Ramsay would smoke too if he grew up in a gray city, with gray skies, surrounded by a gray sea that smells like salt and sulfur. Greyjoy? What kind of sick joke is that name supposed to be?

An app vibrated Theon’s phone. 

**5 minute commute home despite usual traffic.**

Directions? _Yes, thanks._ Ramsay pulled his hood to his eyes when an angry gust of wind made mist pelt his face. _Yeah, I don’t want me to fucking be here either._

The apartment complex stood four stories tall yet no fucking elevator. The temptation to burn the whole thing down and leave the Islands at that increased with every step and then with each muffled drunken fight echoing Theon’s floor. 

At last, Ramsay used Theon’s keys to get into his apartment and found a small bit of refuge there. It smelled like Theon but Ramsay frowned because the apartment didn’t _look_ like him. 

“How’d it go?” A girl called from the hallway running perpendicular to the entrance. 

Ramsay quietly shut and locked the door. 

She walked out in a white and gold velour sweatsuit. Her thick wavy hair was up in a chaotic bun. She froze and flexed, ready to react. “Hi?”

“Gysella?” Ramsay put on his most ‘gee shucks’ charming smile. “I’m sorry, didn’t Theon tell you I’d be here?” _He didn’t fucking tell me you’d be here._ “You know, that I’d be coming to get his things?”

“Get- what? Wait, damn it, would you have a seat?”

“You know what, I’ll just step out into the hall and you text Theon, ok?” He didn’t wait for an answer but slipped out and made sure the phone was on silent. Both her reaction and physique made clear that this girl would fight back. Dropping a random kraken on the street might be an option but taking care of Gysella here, in Theon’s apartment, would be messy. Ramsay had already caught people’s attention, the walls were thin enough to hear screaming, and Theon’s phone had logged this location at this time because GPS is so much easier than handwriting untraceable directions. Sometimes his headaches took on Father’s voice.

It’s fine, though. If Ramsay had proven anything to himself this weekend, it was that his temper is now well under his control. 

G: Hey, did you send some rando to the apartment to get your shit?

_G? What the fuck is that, anyway? A pet name? A code? Good fucking code, idiot._

Theon: Oh, fuck! I forgot 2 tell u

Theon: Sorry 8/

G: You should have told me, wtf?

Theon: I got a v good job offer here

Theon: ru mad @ me?

Ramsay slipped Theon’s phone in his pocket when he heard her stomping toward the door.

“Hey,” she smiled to say _what are we gonna do with him?_ “Sorry about that. Please, come in. I’ll show you his room.”

 _Separate rooms._ That’s good. He followed her through the small but open apartment. “Thanks, I completely understand. I have a little sister and I’d want her to do the same thing. I assumed Theon would have-”

“You don’t know him very well.”

Ramsay ran his tongue across the edges of his teeth and reminded himself how under control his temper is.

“Well, here you go. Help yourself. It’s not my business, apparently.”

 _Nope._ “Thanks.”

Theon had trashed the room. He lacks internal discipline. Ramsay shook his head and wondered where to start.

“Could I ask you something?”

Ramsay’s shoulders tensed but he turned around with a sweet smile. “Absolutely.”

“Like, first, who are you? I’m sorry, I swear I am usually a much nicer person to meet. So what,” she paused to bite her thumbnail. “I don’t know if I want to know what the big new idea that will fix everything for once and all is this time.”

“It’s good.” Ramsay forced a smile. “He’s fine.” Gysella watched him gather Theon’s laptop, his favorite jacket, a pair of sneakers into his black backpack. “Is he taking any medicine, Gysella?”

“He’s supposed to be. I can get it for you.”

“Thanks.” He found Theon’s birth certificate, insurance cards, passport, and other personal papers in a clear plastic bag in the top drawer of his desk, which was convenient but so fucking stupid that Ramsay saw double for a moment. 

When Gysella returned with two labeled orange bottles, Ramsay had already packed what he came for. “Thank you.” He shoved the bottles in the front pocket and zipped it up. I’ll make sure he takes it.”

“Is he going back to her?”

Ramsay’s breath hitched. Fury stabbed his chest. 

Gysella sighed and smiled apologetically. “Hey, do you wanna smoke? Before I let you go?”

Ramsay slid his stuffed backpack off his shoulders and set it on her couch. “Sure. I love cigarettes.”

The balcony had a great view of Harlaw. Too bad the Ironborn city had rusted in the ocean air. The shipping port clung to sea battered rocks like a barnacle and every block felt like the setting for villains to meet while Batman hides in the shadows. 

“Menthols. Great.” Ramsay lit his cigarette then hers. “Did you want to ask about…” he led.

“Tansy?”

_Who the fuck is Tansy?_

Hip resting on the cold, wet railing, Gysella took another drag. “I wondered when he went back to Winterfell awhile ago. He came back wrecked he’s been preoccupied since.”

“And you knew he’d run into Tansy?”

“I wondered,” she repeated. “When he doesn’t want to talk, it’s often because he’s trying to hide something he feels guilty about.” She glanced at Ramsay and pinched her brow. “Are you ok?”

“I didn’t think he would tell you about Tansy,” Ramsay stalled. 

“I was in a similar relationship but, obviously, on the other end of things”

“Oh.”

She snubbed her cigarette out in a sea glass ashtray. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Ha!” He quickly corrected that. "Good, I’m relieved to hear that.”

Gysella studied Ramsay. “I suppose I wanted to see if I could get the sense from you, the Northerner he trusts to get his belongings, if Theon’s alright. Look, can I just ask you; has he relapsed?”

 _Relapsed?_ “No,” Ramsay said carefully. “He’s sober.”

“It figures, you know? The way he talked about her-”

“What did he say?”

“How they met in high school. How funny she is. What she looks like. How sorry he was. But the way he'd get lost said more than he did.” She pulled her scrunchy out, letting her hair cascade to her shoulders. “We met in a bar.”

“Of course.”

“It wasn’t like that. If you could have seen… his eyes get so big and deep that his smile can’t camouflage the pain. And he really listened to me."

"Am I, uh, breaking up with you for him?"

Gysella snorted. "We avoided getting serious. I think we've always been afraid of how the dynamics that might fall into place. He really doesn't want to hurt anyone again."

"He certainly was one dangerous man." Ramsay smiled, taking another disgusting drag.

"Can I ask you one last thing?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you Tansy’s brother?”

“Ha.” This time, Ramsay wasn’t laughing. He flicked his cigarette, letting it fall to the street below. He took a breath and gave a small nod. “Because we look so much alike?”

“Yeah!”

“Wow, ha." Ramsay ran his fingers through his hair. "I don’t know if he’s really good at describing people or if you’re good at imagining them. So, he told you about the _problems_ in their relationship that first night at the bar?”

“Hinted at it. Over the years, he mostly listened to me. But he also tried to explain why he, at least, got so angry and jealous.”

“He did?”

“He wasn’t making excuses, honestly. I actually think he was trying to understand it himself. If you could have seen his eyes when I told him not just what happened to me, but how I _felt_ because of it… he became grief.”

Ramsay grabbed the railing with both hands and stared down at the shadowed street.

Gysella swallowed and cleared her throat. “Do you think Tansy is stupid for going back?”

Ramsay dropped the polite act. _“No.”_

“I was asking your opinion, not stating mine.” Gysella lit another cigarette. “Theon never hit me, not even the wall behind me or anything. Never anything like that. That has to be good.”

“Yeah.” Ramsay nursed his swelling headache. “He put the fucking work in, ok? He was a kid then. He’s not _perfect_ but he’s **better** and he’s been-” Ramsay stopped himself. “I know people can change. I’ve been clean for over a fucking decade.”

“So you’re Don?”

_“Dom.”_

“Huh, I thought he said ‘Don’ but he slurs so bad when he drinks." Her brow became pinched again. "I wonder why he never corrected me?”

“I have to catch the ferry back.” _But maybe not the train._ “Before I leave, I have to give you some of Theon’s sign-on bonus. He wants you to use it to pay the rest of his bills and shit until you can find another roommate.”

“Thank the Drowned God he’s not leaving me to fend for myself again.”

“Right. What is dead doesn't get any deader.” 

“Theon taught you that?” Gysella smiled, impressed, which was a real feat on Ramsay’s part as NO ONE ever smiles here. Maybe krakens who escaped to the mainland are shocked to find one stretching their face one morning.

Or maybe it's just Theon.

Ramsay grabbed Gysella’s arm when she headed back inside. “Listen, don’t worry about Tansy and Theon. When I was sick… addicted, I knew they were getting into trouble. When Theon asked for help, I bailed on them anyhow. Nothing mattered but the next score, not even my best friend and my family. But, that isn’t going to happen again.”

“Dom, that’s awesome. Ultimately though, we can’t be responsible for them or their choices, you know?”

Ramsay let her go. “I’ll leave the money on the couch.”


	11. Equal

Ramsay came home to an empty living room. With each heartbeat thumping through his chest, the cool switchblade in his pocket grew heavier. 

The house sat silent. He stalked through each room and called Theon’s name before - _Oh, yeah-_ Ramsay remembered where he left him.

His quick footsteps, the clicks of the key fitting into place, and the lock popping open built a crescendo the door had to resolve, so Ramsay threw it open. 

Very much there and alive, Theon jumped back, bumping into their headboard. He clutched a pillow to his chest tight enough to make it bend, sticking out at both ends. “What? What did I do?” he said, making a plea as much as asking the question. 

“No, nothing. Relax.” Ramsay dropped his backpack on the edge of their bed. 

Still frozen like a deer, Theon started talking in his low, soft voice. “You’re not mad?”

On second thought, Ramsay decided the closet would work better for now and threw his backpack inside it.

“Why are you slamming everything?”

Uh, except Ramsay had _shut_ the closet door. Theon is very sensitive. Ramsay smoothed his thick hair back so he didn’t look wild. “Hey, do you want to smoke?”

“Do you?”

“I asked if you want to. Just answer the fucking question.”

“Sure. Thanks. Do you have a gym at work?”

“We’ll talk outside. Come on.”

“Okay.” Theon moved slowly, eyes locked on Ramsay whose foot began tapping. 

“I don’t have a gun on me, sweetheart. This isn’t a fucking holdup.” The gun sat inside the backpack, in the closet. Ramsay made a note to store it somewhere safer before leaving Theon alone again.

“Ha, yeah.” Theon rubbed the back of his neck and grinned. “And I know you wouldn’t… it’s just, you came back with a lot of _energy_ and... focus.”

And in nondescript clothing as well. But Ramsay wasn’t on that kind of hunt. “Where’s your jacket?”

Theon’s mouth hung open a moment. “I don’t… you took it from me.”

“Right, yeah. Fine. Here.” Ramsay took his off and wrapped it around Theon. “Super. Use these slippers. You won’t get them run over, right?” When Ramsay grinned, Theon smiled back, wide-eyed and tense.

Frustrated that his humor hadn’t set Theon at ease, Ramsay huffed and grabbed his wrist. “Come on.”

“You like the fire?”

“It’s nice and warm. And smells good, actually.”

“Walnut.” Every fall the tree dropped green balls which turn to a black tar like globs all over his property. Ramsay enjoyed felling the silent giant and hacking it up. It burned clean and sweet. 

“You look like you had a decent workout,” Theon ventured. 

“Not today.”

“So… what did happen today?” 

“It’s not so much that an event took place. I discovered information.”

Theon steeled himself in the fire’s warm orange glow. “Bad information?”

“No. Alright? Are you relaxed now?”

“Better,” Theon agreed.

“Great. I don’t need you to freak out, because then this will turn into pulling teeth and I’m not feeling super fucking patient.”

“Ramsay!”

“What?”

“That is the _opposite_ of how to calm someone down, and you know it!”

A glint of amber light flashed in Ramsay’s eyes like the lick of a flame. “Well, I’m trying not to be a ‘possessive, controlling, manipulative asshole’, remember?”

“When did-”

“Like you don’t manipulate the shit out of me. It’s called a relationship, dick.” Nonetheless, Ramsay reconsidered, running fingers through his hair. 

He turned to Theon with a new, gentler smile. 

Theon’s eyes bulged. “What did you _do_?”

“Listen-”

“You didn’t go to work, did you? Did you go to Pyke?” 

“No, why?”

“Harlaw?” He took Ramsay’s unapologetic expression as an affirmation. “You went to my apartment then?” A queasy dread overtook Theon’s panic. “And ran into someone?”

“Yes.”

“Is she ok?”

Ramsay offered Theon his phone but, after waiting so long to see it again, Theon hesitated to take it. “Go on. Call her.”

“Why?”

“I mean, if you want reassurance or whatever. We talked, that’s all.”

The last texts from Gysella told him everything.

G: Thanks for the money. 

G: Tansy’s brother is cute in a creepy way. She must be beautiful. 

He dropped his phone and covered his eyes. 

Though his hand itched to snatch it back, Ramsay let Theon’s phone sit on the bench between them. “So…”

Theon groaned.

“I have some questions.”

“Alright.” Theon dragged his hand down his face. “No, there’s no Tansy. Is that what you want to know?”

Ramsay offered Theon one of his own cigarettes.

“Where have you been keeping these?” He lit a cigarette and pulled an aching drag. 

Ramsay held out his hand until Theon dropped the lighter in it. 

“Alright. When I met Gysella, she had a place to stay and I had fuck all to exchange for that. So, I improvised.”

“This was right after you left me?”

Theon winced. “Yes. We met at my friend’s bar. She cried about her ex and how he’d never apologize to her or tell her things weren’t her fault and shit, so I… filled in. It bought me a warm, dry place to stay while I got back on my feet. That’s it.” Theon stood and took another drag.

“You lied in order to use her?”

Theon shrugged and flicked the filter of his cigarette until ash crumbled into Ramsay’s fire pit. 

“On and off for eight months? You left me almost thirteen years ago.”

“She and I reconnected recently. I moved back in with her after I lost my job. That’s why my shit’s in boxes.”

 _And why so much is crammed into one bedroom,_ Ramsay realized.

At first, this fucking Tansy story promised to be a fun new weapon. Ramsay had stood on Gysella’s balcony salivating to bring it home and play. Instead, like the sex tape, it fell apart before he could wield it. The sharp edge of both seemed to point back at Ramsay’s chest. _Madness and bullshit._

“Why didn’t you stay with Asha?” 

“I needed a drink, a few shots before I could consider facing her like _that._ My friend’s bar shined in front of me, right there on the pier where the ferry docked, like a sign. Then Gysella showed up. I kind of, maybe remembered her, but she knew me and things worked out from there.”

The far away nothing stole Theon’s gaze again. He took another drag and shoved his other hand into his pocket.

Ramsay could slap the _Are-we-done_ look off of Theon’s absent face if he wasn’t so fucking cunty patient now. “So you were just using Gysella because she was an easy mark, huh?”

Theon exhaled like a dragon in Northern winter’s diamond air. 

“I’m a Greyjoy.”

“I see.”

“Anything else?”

“No, I mean I really, actually see it. Right now, in front of me and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m impressed. Your posture, your voice, your sudden lack of expression; this is Theon fucking Greyjoy as previously seen on the Iron Islands. Were you in character when you grabbed Kyra?”

The glowing tail of Theon’s cigarette trembled when he inhaled.

“You’re the bad guy in your own story. Again.” 

Theon took a last drag and dropped his cigarette into the fire’s devouring mouth. 

“Did she scream at you?”

“Hey, can I have another one?”

“Gysella, I mean. Not that night, I’m sure but after a month maybe. She’s a fighter, that Gysella. I saw it immediately. Did you stand there and take it while she tore you apart for beating a woman who doesn’t exist?”

“A smoke, Ramsay? Or a fucking drink?” Theon wrapped a hand around his forehead to keep it together.

“Feel sick, baby?”

 _“I don’t want to talk anymore,”_ scraped out of Theon’s throat.

“I bet. Seven fucking Hells. Yeah, I’ll have one with you. Here.” After they both took and lit one, Ramsay tossed the rest of the pack in the fire. “This shit smells fucking awful. Sit down, your knees will buckle.”

Theon mumbled a half-hearted dismissal of the concern while stealing a glance at the bench. 

“For fuck’s sake, you don’t have to look at me but sit down.” Ramsay pointed to Theon’s spot on the bench. Their bench. 

After a drag or two passed with only the fire crackling, Ramsay looked up, understanding. “Are you stuck again?”

With the ghost of a nod, Theon bit his lip. “Sometimes I just want you to tell me…”

Ramsay stood and pulled Theon to him. “I know. It’s alright, puppy.”

It took about twenty minutes for Theon to defrost in Ramsay’s arms. Alcohol would have hurried the process along, but Ramsay waited instead of offering a drink; proof of his new fucking cunty patience. 

Eventually, Theon pulled his face out from hiding in the crook of Ramsay’s neck, but remained pressed to his side. “She asked if I was drinking about an ex too.”

“She did? When you met?”

***

“Yeah,” Theon grinned with the corner of his mouth he could still operate. 

“Bad breakup?”

“Bad everything.” Theon winced as he took a shot of Eagle Rare. He coughed through his nose when he slammed the shot glass on the bartop. “Yeah, bad breakup, if you wanna call it that.”

The hot girl spoke softer and with more thought than her 100% Ironborn looks would have led Theon to believe. She leaned in closer to eyeball him.

“You are beautiful.”

The hot girl snorted. “You are so drunk.”

 _“You are,”_ he grumbled.

“I’m Gysella.”

“Was it a mistake?”

Gysella frowned. “Was what a mistake?”

Theon wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Leaving?”

“Leaving? Leaving what, your ex?”

“YES, damn it!” Theon’s fist slammed into the bar, which was funny because he didn’t ask it to do that and weird because he didn’t feel the impact. And yet, Drowned God take him if that wasn’t his own damn clenched hand dripping with booze on the bar top. 

“Oh, come fucking on.” Some asshole had knocked his shot glasses and mug of stout over. Good thing they were empty. “Wex what kind of shithole- oh.” Theon’s head swerved around and when his vision steadied he found Gysella still sitting on the barstool beside him, looking very _nursely_ in her eyes. 

“Hey there!” Theon covered his mouth. “Was he looking at me?”

“Wex?” A suppressed smile sparked in her big dark brown eyes. 

“I almost forgot but he can read lips.” His obstructing hand fell away and Theon grinned. “That’s how he stands this fucking music! Am I right? Do you get it?” No one has a sense of humor on the fucking Islands. “Ah,” he waved her off, “you’ll get it later.”

“Are you a Greyjoy?”

 _“Are you?_ No, you aren’t or we’d be fighting and your ass would sure as shit be drinking. Wex!” He waved his hand over his head then held up the empty mug and a fifty. “Ok? Some fucker spilled my… everything. Wait, hey, do you _**do**_ want a drink too, gorgeous?”

“I actually need to head out.” Gysella stood and grabbed her purse. 

“I’m not like other Greyjoys. I can speak with a Northern accent. Wanna hear?” He snatched her soft wrist and clung to it, offering a too-wide grin.“Don’t go.”

She yanked her wrist back and inched away from him. “You’re slurring too much for impressions.”

The look in her eyes landed hard, sobering and unbearable. “No, don’t be afraid. Please, I won’t- I’m sorry.”

Instead of relaxing, her eyes narrowed. “Is that the kind of bad relationship you left, Prince Charming?”

“NO!” A stool clattered to the floor behind him and Theon was standing. Shaking. Pointing at her face. “You don’t know shit about it! About _me_!”

Wex waved to get his attention, so far away in Theon’s dark periphery. 

“I heard you mumbling to yourself outside.”

Theon couldn’t breathe. Everyone in the bar was looking, and the people pretending not to look listened. _Everyone would know._ Another shot. Maybe two. 

“I had a smoke outside and you were pissing off the pier.”

This is the sign. Furious black water thrashed against the pier beneath his feet. His head would bash open on the rocks. Free. Weightless. No more pain. 

“Did you leave Tansy because you hurt her?”

 _What?_ “... Tansy?”

Gysella nodded. “Believe me now? I heard everything. You kept saying you didn’t want her to die.”

 _Her?_ “Yes.” Actually, no one was looking, and the music wasn’t that loud, and Theon could breathe and sit down again. “I don’t want… her to die.”

Gysella sat down too. “Is that why you left her?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Then it wasn’t a mistake.” Gysella looked away, burdened and numb. “Do you want to pay your tab? There are these crab cakes you can buy off a cart on this dock down the shore. They’ll soak up the liquor in your stomach.”

“Gysella, I’m Theon. I won’t ever hurt you.”

Gysella nodded without smiling. After he gave Wex the money he’d stolen off Ramsay’s white, leaden body, that morning, Gysella let Theon follow her out. 


	12. Matter

“But you never told her? All this time? Why?”

“Why would I?”

“She kept telling me how sorry you were. Why the fuck would you pretend to be _sorry_?”

“It seemed like a good thing. Like I was giving her something she needed.”

“Did you tell Gysella things that you wanted to hear from me?”

Theon jerked, but Ramsay didn’t let go. “It’s not the same.”

“Is the shit she said to you what you wanted to scream at me?”

“Stop.” Theon’s eyes had turned green again. “I’m tired and hungry, Ramsay. And it’s not the same.”

“I guess you didn’t get too far in therapy.”

With a sigh, Theon sank into Ramsay’s warmth. Ramsay’s arms wrapped tighter around him. “I liked talking to Gysella more than the counselor she pressured me into seeing. He had no sense of humor.”

“Were you telling jokes, Theon?” He felt Theon’s smothered shrug. “Yeah, they aren’t big on that in counseling sessions.”

“Do you remember Mr. Stark’s funeral?”

Ramsay snorted. His eyes reflected the settling fire hugging its red embers. 

***

Though choking in his tie, Theon had still looked hot as fuck in the first suit he ever wore. He stared straight ahead at the casket like he was supposed to, but his mind’s eye examined himself from different angles. His hair was perfect. What an asshole he was for caring. 

The Stark kids, on the other hand, were falling apart in the first pew, several rows ahead of him. As cold as The North could be, people were open with the most inappropriate emotions. Theon felt both admiration and disgust. 

He couldn’t yet tell which was the lie. 

Part of him felt he should have been crying. The lump in his throat wasn’t enough, might not even be real. If this funeral had been on the Islands, he’d have had a chance to kneel alone in front of Mr. Stark, touch a tear he let slip, and then Mr. Stark’s hand with the tip of his finger as he left. 

The other part of him knew his stoic expression made his father proud, not that Balon would ever say so. And even Balon must have seen how much Theon did _look_ like a Greyjoy–meaning he looked like a criminal in his tailored black suit.

Blank-faced, he checked his watch again. Five minutes until it starts then the lack of conversation won’t make his tie feel like a fucking noose. 

Why did he have to come here? Balon hated Mr. Stark. Now Theon was worrying about how he looked and what Balon thought when he really owed Mr. Stark his buried heartbreak. And Balon, his biological father, stared at Theon from the other end of the pew silently daring him to go on and be a traitor again. _Be weak and cry for your fill-in father figure. Be soft and false and prove me right. Be my enemy, not a child I failed._ Balon knows what to do with enemies.

So, in a hard, near-empty pew Theon sat torn and guilt-ridden, yet again, over choices that he didn’t make when Bolton and his boy Damon dropped down to sit beside him. 

Balon took note and didn’t seem displeased that the roughest looking young assholes in the North had sought out his cunty runt of a son. 

Only when Ramsay smiled back did Theon realize he’d let his stoic mask slip. He went back to walking the fine line between being too sad and too indifferent. 

Ramsay laid his arm across the back of the pew as if relaxing on his couch at home and leaned into Theon. “Is that your dad?”

Theon swallowed. “How can you tell? The paternal love emanating from him?”

“My father had to point him out. You know, you look nothing like him.”

Theon’s mouth twitched bitterly. “So I’ve heard.”

“From him?”

Theon gritted his teeth.

“Is that why he hates you?”

“The fuck?” Theon lowered his voice. “I _am_ a fucking Greyjoy.”

“Maybe.” Ramsay relaxed further, too close for comfort. “You’re not his kid though.”

“Hey, Bolton: Knock. Knock.”

Damon snickered, peering at Theon over the top of Ramsay’s head.

Ramsay grinned, cold as a razor blade. “Who’s there?”

“Get the fuck out of my life.” Stone-faced again, Theon stood as ushers wheeled the closed casket down the center aisle. 

“Get the fuck out of my life, who?”

When Theon first met Robb he stood a head above him but Robb outgrew Theon quickly. He stood straight and so tall as his father’s casket approached, but his wide shoulders were shaking. 

“Theon. Get the fuck out of my life, who?”

“Get the fuck out of my life, Ramsay!” Theon whispered.

“I don’t get it.”

Theon faced Ramsay then. “Shut up!”

“I just want to understand the punchline.”

 _“The funeral’s started,”_ Theon snapped. The Septon walked out. No seawater or incense but he still had a speech to give. God, how unbearable. And no wake afterward? Northmen are monsters but Theon, for one, had a bottle of rum waiting in his backseat. 

“So, what’s the joke?” Bolton also looked like a criminal in a suit; one who got away with everything, one with a rock-solid cover story, a wink and a tip to keep your mouth shut. A million whispered, tearstained rumours to make you want to stay on his good side. Just when Theon thought he couldn’t disgust himself anymore, Ramsay’s awful attractiveness became painfully unavoidable. 

“This is serious, Bolton.”

“You’re right. Of course, it is. I’m very sorry.”

Theon kept staring straight ahead as if Bolton didn’t exist.

After some back and forth between the Septon and funeral mass, and several songs that everyone but the Greyjoys had memorized, Robb went up to read a eulogy and it hit Theon so hard that suddenly he felt nauseous and shaky; _oh, shit this will fucking hurt._

Not a word from Robb’s mouth landed in Theon’s mind. A bubble had encased him. The whole scene became dreamlike. His knees kept knocking against the back of the pew in front of him, so the pew must be real. It’s waxed and oiled wood reminded him of a bar top. A small shelf held miniature envelopes, golf pencils, and a leatherbound book with gilded pages. Theon’s eyes circled the seven-pointed star on the envelope facing him. 

Ramsay whispered something Theon ignored. 

_Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, and Stranger._

Despite lacking any real faith to speak of, Theon would always light a candle to the Stranger. Damon’s whisper derailed his train of thought. He could feel Bolton’s stare on him and it made him cringe. 

“Penis,” Ramsay whispered.

Theon slowly turned, wide-eyed. 

Ramsay’s December sky eyes narrowed but his smile offered a warm invitation. He snatched the envelope Theon had been staring at and wrote COWARD over the seven-pointed star with one of the golf pencils. 

After swallowing and blinking a few times Theon found himself inexplicably saying, “Penis” a little louder than Ramsay had. It won him a look of pride Balon would never wear, a feeling of belonging the Starks would never offer.

Damon said it a little louder, then Ramsay a little louder than him. 

When Theon said it louder than Ramsay it wasn’t a _fuck you_ to Mr. Stark. It was a _fuck you_ to all the bullshit, all the lies, and unfair expectations. It was casting off the burden of other people’s hypocrisy. And it made Ramsay laugh. 

Until Mr. Bolton leaned forward, easing silently into both of their peripheries. 

Ramsay jumped to sitting up straight as Robb sat down. His full, sensual lips pressed together.

Once Mr. Bolton sat back in the pew behind them, Ramsay and Theon exchanged glances asking each other, _How long has he been sitting there?_

Theon flashed the envelope with COWARD in Ramsay’s choppy handwriting right back at him. They both bit the inside of their lips. 

Ramsay raised his eyebrows. 

Even though it was the worst thing to do, Theon grinned back. If he was everyone’s awful mistake, at least he could be awful _with_ someone and being so fucking awful was just so fucking funny he had to cover his face so his bizarre laughter might look like sobbing.

***

The fire was dying but Ramsay didn’t move to revive it. “Yeah, you’ve always had a good sense of humor.”

“Meaning I laugh at your jokes?”

Ramsay frowned. “No shit, what else would it mean? Hey... you want to get out of here?”

Theon sat up and Ramsay let him pull away. “Really?”

“Let’s get cleaned up and we’ll go for a drive.”

Before they even reached Weeping Water Theon knew Ramsay’s destination. “This is why I got my clothes back? So she won’t yell at you?”

Ramsay smirked and lowered the music that had been vibrating in their chests. “She’s still going to yell.”

“Isn’t it pretty late to drop in?”

“Nah, she doesn’t get home until ten.”

“You still haven’t talked her into retiring?”

“I’ve tried but she hasn’t stopped being the most stubborn person I know.”

“Heh.” Theon guessed each turn correctly, not that there were many. Still, there were few landmarks to help him. Bear-sized tree trunks lifted thick pines high into the starry sky all over the rocky hillside running alongside them. 

The first time Ramsay brought him out here, Theon’s stomach twisted because Ramsay had decided to reveal a whole other hidden side of himself. Theon had said some shit like, “You don’t seem like a country boy,” but by the end of the first day in Weeping Water he recognized how obvious Ramsay’s roots here should have been. He had the rare kind of common sense one earns through making do with their own hands and wits. Ramsay didn’t care what strangers thought because he had tested and proven himself while learning how fast untested people crumble in the face of a real problem.

Like how Theon crumbled behind the welcome mat of an unassuming ranch house. His heart pounded in his jaw and temples when Ramsay thundered on her door. “Mum! It’s Ramsay!” 

As soon as Ramsay stopped knocking, he used his key to unlock the door. 

“I know it’s you, honey. No one else beats the door down like you do,” she called from her bedroom. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.” Ramsay stepped inside and pulled Theon in when he hesitated. “Don’t you smell that?” Stuffed cabbage and potato pancakes; to Ramsay, it smelled like home and a happy stomach. To Theon, it smelled like winter dinners in a warm, safe, welcoming home. 

Still, he jumped when Ramsay’s mom screamed, “THEON!” She clapped her hands in front of her face and gasped. “Seven Heavens.” She’d changed into cute, clean pajamas and came running out of her room in fuzzy slippers.

Theon grinned, scratching the back of his head. “Hi.” She tackled him with a hug and jumped, squealing.

“You’re so skinny!”

“Hello, mother. I’m here too, thanks.”

“He's too skinny!”

“Well, I _just_ got him so wait a month before you yell at me.”

“Oh, honey!” An athletic build and long legs made Dolores look taller than her actual height. She grabbed Ramsay’s face with both hands and kissed his forehead, as she always did. “And you are even more handsome than last time I saw you. Look at that smile! And you!”

Theon put his hands up but her fists still pelted his chest and shoulders. “What is WRONG with you?! You should have called me! A quick call, Theon! A text or email! Let me know you're ALIVE!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

“I’ll finish dinner, mum.” Ramsay hung his jacket in the hall closet and headed for the kitchen, leaving Theon to his mother.

“Come sit down. Take your shoes and jacket off, you’re not leaving yet.” Her shining round blue eyes were framed by dark lids making her appeal feel like the soft but undeniable plea of a Raphealite saint. 

“Of course, thank you,” Theon said with a guilty grin. 

_What a cute little monster._ Ramsay looked cherubic in his framed childhood photos, but his eyes were as sharp and piercing then as now. 

“He really grew into that big head,” Dolores said behind him. 

Theon smirked. “His eyes too.”

“His father thought he was cross-eyed until he was about two, but I knew they were just big for his sweet little face.”

That’s not what Theon meant but, yeah, he could see that. He bit his lip. 

“Big lungs too; always a loud boy. He could have been a great actor although, I guess that is, in part, what he’s become.” Mrs. Miller had always had a little smirk and a twinkle in her tired eyes, an under-the-radar humor that Theon appreciated.

“Sit down. What do you want to drink?” She sensed an opportunity and asked, “How are you?” in a low voice, touching his shoulder. 

“I don’t know. Um, water?”

“Oh, Theon, don’t start being strange with me. Water? Come on.”

“I’ll get him wine, Mum,” Ramsay called from the kitchen. “Sit down.”

Dolores pointed to her ear and raised her eyebrows. Ramsay’s hearing had always impressed and unnerved Theon and, Theon suspected, his mother as well. Either way, this wouldn’t be the time or place for an open conversation.

“Mum, make him eat, come on.” 

She squeezed Theon’s shoulder and headed to the kitchen. “Well, there’s hardly enough, Ramsay!”

“Sure there is.”

“How many times have I told you to call first if you’re hungry so I know how much to make!”

“There is so much food,” Theon laughed. He took the glass of wine Ramsay offered and sat at the kitchen table beside Ramsay’s mother. 

Ramsay sat down with a serene smile. “Want to say something, sweetie?”

“Me?” 

“What should he have to say? He doesn’t know how to do a blessing. Let him eat in peace.”

“Mom, you haven’t gone to a Godswood for decades.”

“I know but I still light my candles. Ugh, I’m getting old and turning into my mother.”

Ramsay stared Theon down instead of replying. 

“Um, thank you.”

“Me?” Ramsay asked innocently.

“No, I mean, not for the food.” He turned to Ramsay’s mom. “Thank you, uh…” Calling her Dolores felt odd; he didn’t exactly want to be her buddy. Mrs. Miller felt too distant and formal. Theon found he wanted to call her ma, actually, but he couldn’t shake the image of his own mother’s tears getting lost in the undertow somewhere in Iron Man’s bay. 

“You should call her mom-”

“Oh!” Dolores clasped her hands. 

“-since…”

Theon went rigid, dropping his fork. _There is no god damn way._

Grabbing the table with both hands, Mrs. Miller held her breath.

“... we’re getting married.” There was an explosion of mother and son, hugging and yelling, and laughing and happy tears, shaking Theon. He bobbed dumb in the storm waves, being hugged and kissed on the cheek and talked to but he didn’t understand a word. 

_You bastard,_ was his first coherent thought but he let the irresistible tide pull him out to the warm, placid, sapphire waters of being so earnestly loved and wanted.

They celebrated with a shot of vodka before dinner. 


	13. Part III: Movement - Chapter 13 Symbol

After fifteen minutes of driving home in silence, Ramsay grew annoyed. Theon stared at the dashboard as if daring Ramsay to grab the back of his head and slam his face into it. Nice try but, no, Ramsay didn’t work this hard to let Theon play the fucking victim and set them both back. He forced a gentle smile. “Sweetheart? Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

Nothing. No response. Like Ramsay didn’t even fucking exist.

Father lit up his singing phone again until Ramsay silenced it. He’d run out of patience. “Do you want to talk on the way home or should I pull over?”

Theon exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. “You didn’t even let me talk to her.”

“Mum? Yes, I did.”

“You know what I mean; _alone_.”

“You have the rest of your life for that, but it's too soon right now. Is that why you’re pouting?”

Finally, Theon glanced over. “I had time to think when you left me alone today. I used to wonder how you did it.”

“Yeah?” Ramsay smiled. “How I did what?”

“Make me so fucking stupid.”

“With this dick!”

No smile.

 _Fine._ “Theon, you’re sweet. I like that about you. You’re always trying to change all the wrong things about yourself, dreaming up the,” he snorted, “worst gods damned plans.”

“I can’t focus because I’m constantly shocked, always reeling. It’s a series of explosions, being with you.”

“Sounds hot.”

“How can I run when my feet are never on the ground?”

“Don’t. Let go, it’s so easy.”

“I need a part in deciding my own life.”

 _“I know,”_ Ramsay snapped.

“Before, when we were together, I lived in crisis-management. I had no space or time for surveying what had actually happened until I left.”

“When you left me to die?” That shut him up. “I told you Mum would forgive you but, it’s funny, I don’t know about Father.” Ramsay winced, “He’s the one that found me. Did you know that? Oh, right, why would you? If he didn’t come upstairs to yell at me about taking out the trash, of all fucking things, you wouldn’t have even come to my funeral, would you? No, you’d find out later, as with Domeric, after everything ended. No one would have been there to cry for me.”

Now Theon crumpled in the passenger seat, his chest slowly heaving. 

_Stop and come look closer at what you’ve done,_ Father once said, his voice cold and dry as the winter woods. _Your savage hacking peppered the meat with bone fragments. How do you plan to eviscerate the buck when you’ve mutilated its large intestine?_ Father stood and dusted the earth off his hands. He sighed, as he does, through his nose. _There’s no art to how you wield a weapon._

“But… I thought you said it wasn’t my fault?”

Ramsay composed a look of sympathy. “My addiction resulted from the choices **I** made.” He faced the windshield with a magnanimous sigh. “Find ways to live with the choices **you** made. The best thing for us to move forward in a positive direction. You can help me _now_ when I need you again. First at home, and then in the firm, and then, you know-”

“Did you go to Harlaw to get my personal information or to kill Gysella?”

Ramsay laughed. “Who’s insane now? You sound like a crazy person! Come on, Theon.”

“None of that was an answer,” Theon pouted. 

“I’m doing you a lot of favors, okay? That’s why I went; to make things better for us.”

“Did you steal my passport?”

“Yes, Theon, I stole your passport _from_ you _for_ you. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous when you hear it said out loud? Huh? That’s a trick you can use, by the way.”

Theon shook his stupid, fluffy head. “What trick? Trick for what? Oh, ew, you’re not one of those fucking people now, are you? ‘My therapist said…’ _this_ , ‘Once I became sober I discovered’ _that_ , or ‘You should really go rehab!’ Gross.”

“Get that a lot, did you?” Ramsay giggled when Theon frowned. 

“We came all this way, and I didn’t really get to talk to her,” Theon mumbled, finally stripped of the bullshit. Ramsay enjoyed plucking it away piece by piece and liked Theon raw even better. 

“The more we trust each other, the better things will be. Give it time.”

Theon made a sour face and leaned into cradling his forehead. “You mean if I’m good I can earn privileges? Does that sound like a marriage to you?”

“Yes, our marriage.”

The paramount crack in Theon’s dwindling defenses manifested in a shy smile. “I didn’t say _yes._ ”

“I didn’t propose, I decided.” 

Open now, Theon searched Ramsay in the fascinated, pleading way that fills aching emptiness. “Do you plan these things out? Like these last few days, I mean. Or is it all spontaneous?”

“Both; I plan, react, recalculate. It’s not that difficult when you keep your head out of your ass.”

“Wow.” Theon squinted and blinked as though trying to make his eyes adjust. “That was an actual honest answer AND you’re turning into your fucking father. Never thought I’d see either.”

“Hmm.” Ramsay smirked. “I have plans but I also have a heart… for you anyhow.” He locked onto Theon’s shining eyes. “I just need you to trust me.”

***

Shaken awake, Theon inched away from the door Ramsay burst through. He crawled backward like a crab through a mess of dirty sheets. 

Ramsay’s young face had grown drawn. His hollow eyes expanded to grotesque proportions as his face sank and skin dulled. He scratched his arm and overtook Theon wearing pinprick pupils and a hollow grin. 

“Hey, puppy, hey.” He sat on the edge of the bed but didn’t sink into the mattress, so rigid, taut like he was ready to spring. He produced a wrinkled white paper bag from behind his bag. “I bet you’re so hungry. Guess what? I got you a king-sized burger meal.”

Saliva had gushed into Theon’s dry mouth as soon as he smelled it. It felt like his stomach was eating itself in anticipation. 

“Ramsay-”

“I just need you to help me out.”

“Help you?”

“You know I’d never let anyone hurt you, right?”

“Ramsay, I think your father came home last night. I think we should clean up-”

“No, no, he’s in Kings Landing until Sunday. Domeric’s in Essos, just relax, we’re totally cool.”

Theon bit hard into his lip. “Well, I’m also worried… someone ashed in Bruce’s fishbowl.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know but he hasn’t come out of his castle. I can change his water if you’d let-”

“Yeah, yeah, I wanted to get him a tank, like you said.”

“Really?”

“I just, baby, I need some money to do it.”

“But… my dad won’t- I tried. He doesn’t care-” Theon’s last few calls went to voicemail after a ring or two. He couldn’t bring himself to try again. 

“Shh, I know. Poor puppy. Get up, come on-come on- fucking GET UP.” He tore Theon from their bed and rifled through his pockets until he produced two chalky pills. “Okay, now open your mouth like a good boy.”

Theon whimpered, fighting back hot tears. 

“These are for you. Do you understand? To make things easier for you.”

He ate the pills dry then opened his mouth and lifted his tongue until Ramsay patted his cheek. 

“Good job.” 

Ramsay smelled different ever since he started using. Maybe it was the concealer he stole from a convenience store to cake the track marks inside his arms but Theon didn’t think so. A sweet chemical scent like old cologne seemed to come from Ramsay’s sweat glands. Theon swore it numbed the back of his tongue and throat when he breathed it in. 

“Such a good boy…” Ramsay pulled him down the hall into Domeric’s pristine room. 

The dusty air welcomed Theon with a sharp absence of salty fluids, spilled liquor, and decaying garbage but Theon held his breath when he saw the restraints on Domeric’s bed. Plastic stuck to the soles of his feet and Theon found it covering the bedroom floor, like Domeric’s room was being painted. 

None of this was right. Hot and cold needles ran from the top of his head down Theon’s spine. Whether the drugs were working already or panic had manifested in a new way, he couldn’t tell anymore.

“I won’t let anyone touch you,” Ramsay whispered, hot against Theon’s neck. “Trust me and go to sleep like a good puppy.”

Theon remembered pieces after that:

Ramsay fumbling with a cuff because his hands were trembling; his once thick, quick, sure hands. 

Theon’s wrist but it was so thin and white, he didn’t recognize it until he saw the scars. Again, the thought weighed in his tight stomach that they were dying here. 

The slide of a belt through denim loops made Theon’s eyes reflexively strain to open, but he didn’t find Ramsay wrapping one end around his fist. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and Theon thrashed against his restraints. Yellow Dick pulled his shirt over his head at the foot of Domeric’s bed. 

Weight on the bed made Theon sink to one side. He forced one eye open. Dick was crawling over him.

But Ramsay’s eyes shined in the dim light, just over Dick’s shoulder. His Cheshire Cat grin produced a silver blade before black swallowed the room. 

Theon heard Dick swear and grunt. He heard Ramsay giggling. There was a wet choking sound as Ramsay worked and worked away somewhere on the floor. Theon didn’t care to open his eyes.

He dreamed about Ramsay building a house but he worked so frantically at it, hammering, out of breath, throwing his body into every strike, laughing, so furious that he kept smashing the frame of the house faster than he could build it.

Damon’s voice, “How is he so heavy?” 

Later morning light crept in through cracks in the curtains. Damon’s low voice rumbles in the hallway. He’s asking about money. Ramsay asked how the burn barrel worked instead of answering. The cuffs are off Theon’s wrist and the cold bag of food is beside him on Domeric’s bed. 

Theon rubbed his eyes, sobering up. The plastic cup of Coke on the nightstand was half empty but cold and as big as his head. The fast-food tasted more salt and waxy paper than a burger and fries but it made his stomach happy. 

The next thing Theon remembers is his bladder waking him up. Daylight glowed through Domeric’s curtains, illuminating Ramsay, who’d passed out next to him with a needle hanging from his arm like the stinger a bee left behind before flying off to die. 

He thought Ramsay was dead when he went to the bathroom and, yes; he did cry in the shower. But when Theon took the money Dick paid out of Ramsay’s wallet, Ramsay’s jaw opened. His mouth gaped, silently moving like a fish. He was rigid when his body gasped, wheezing like an engine that couldn’t start. 

Then he became a corpse again. Theon kissed his blue lips and got dressed. He agonized over calling Mr. Bolton on the two-mile walk to the nearest bus stop, and on the train and the ferry but he had to keep going. 

***

“Theon?”

He jumped, startled. “Huh?”

“Still with me?”

Theon nodded. 

“Where did you go?”

“Um…” Theon shrugged, hugging himself. 

“We’re almost home. What are you afraid of?” 

The look in Theon’s wide eyes answered for him. 

“Memories are tricky things, Theon. Once we’re married, the state can’t compel you to testify against me. That would make you valuable to Father; a safe position to be in.”

“Yeah,” Theon whispered.

“If you knew how hard I’ve been fighting for you…” but the less said the better. 

“Is that what he’s been calling about?”

Ramsay gritted his teeth. “About… yeah, a lot of things. Look at this shit!” Ramsay lifted his phone out of the cupholder he’d stuck it in. FATHER calling ran across the top of the bright screen. “If I answer in the car the car speakers will pick the call up.”

Ramsay ran his tongue against the back of his teeth to keep from sneering and dropped his phone back in the cupholder. “Like he won’t leverage you against me if he knows you’re listening.” He tapped the steering wheel a few times and took a deep breath as he turned into his private patch of woods. “He’s tracking my phone, I just can’t fucking figure out how. You know how many times I’ve changed phones and numbers and how gods damned annoying that is?” 

Theon groaned sympathetically. “I, uh, can imagine. He hasn’t mellowed out that much then?”

“Ha! Maybe, actually… Walda calms him down, believe it or not. He’ll be busy with a little daughter soon. He wants me to drag you into the firm tomorrow but he isn’t as easy to distract as Mum is so he’ll bitch about my hand and…” The car slowed to a stop.

“What’s wrong?”

Ramsay drew his sneer out into a tight smile. “I didn’t leave the lights on.” He parked the car down the street from his house and crossed his arms. “Why didn’t my fucking alarm…” then he squared his jaw and nodded. “Cool, great, wonderful. Listen, just let me do the talking.” His hand vibrated with restrained rage when he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Wait, what’s happening now?”

Ramsay put his car back into drive and smiled apologetically. “Father got tired of calling. He might be a little pissy.” Theon turned white so Ramsay pet his head. “You’ll be fine.”


	14. Product

Confetti snowflakes drifted through the beams of Ramsay’s headlights. “That’s his Mercedes,” Ramsay said, pulling in the driveway. “So it’s not some random psychopath that broke into our house in the middle of the night, it’s the one that raised me.

“Um, Ramsay, what is this about?” Theon offered Ramsay his vibrating phone. 

“How sweet! He’s calling again.” Ramsay scowled at the phone and killed the engine. He slammed his door and stalked around the car to Theon’s.

“I meant, the icon you gave your dad,” Theon said, slinking out. He bit his lip and hugged his arms to his chest. “Is that a dead cat?”

The fires building in Ramsay cooled before combusting. He smirked at Theon’s stupid, shining, bug eyes and pocketed his phone.

“You didn’t… that’s not, like-”

“It’s just a joke, but I don’t have time to explain it.” Ramsay combed his hair with his fingers and grinned. “Don’t _ever_ mention it to him.”

Theon rubbed the back of his neck and tried to resist feeling like they were kids snickering in church again. “This is going to suck, isn’t it?”

“Oh, you think? Gee, yeah, I fucking bet so, you little shit.” Ramsay crowded Theon until he pressed his back into the car.

“It’s not my fault!” Theon’s hands dropped, landing on Ramsay’s hips.

“I know but…”

Theon raised an eyebrow.

“You used to be like that beep a car uses to let you know you’re drifting into the oncoming traffic.”

“What- when did you drift into oncoming traffic?”

“It’s an expression, idiot. You’d have to have a nice car to understand.”

“I have a very nice car!”

“Nice as mine?” Ramsay snorted and pulled back. “Let’s have a smoke before we face the executioner. He _hates_ the smell of cigarettes.”

“So do you,” Theon laughed, shivering. 

“It’s so worth it to see his nose wrinkle. _Disgusting.”_

“That’s fucking eerie; you looked so much like him when you did that.”

“Shut up. Gods, you are pathetic.” Ramsay took his jacket off and wrapped it around Theon who beamed back, smothering his smile. “So do you want one or not?” 

“Fuck yes, I do. Why are you keeping my smokes for me?”

“That’s a stupid way to say _thank you_.” Ramsay clicked Theon’s lighter on and held out the flame. 

Bending down, Theon looked up and grinned around his cigarette, his eyes shining. “Thank you.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“It’s freezing out here.” Theon pressed into Ramsay’s side. 

“You're wearing two good jackets. It’s your nerves, you fucking idiot. Don’t puke on my shoes, I only wear them for judges and my mother.”

“I’M NOT-” Theon held his breath and stepped back, further from the porch light. “I am not a kid anymore either.”

Rolling his eyes, Ramsay lit a cigarette for himself.

Well, Theon could also be dismissive. He watched his hot smokey breath flee high into the starry sky. “I’ve changed too, Ramsay.”

“Bullshit. You’ll never change. You can be a happy, healthy Theon, or a worse version of yourself. You can _pretend_ to be someone else, you love doing that, but you won’t ever change. And I’m the only one who knows who you really are, including you, apparently.”

Frowning, Theon shook his head and took another drag. 

“What?” Ramsay shoved Theon’s shoulder, making him stumble back a step. “I didn’t pay attention to you when I was an addict? Huh? I didn’t care enough? You can’t keep judging me like the worst three months of my life defines more than three decades of living.” 

Theon pursed his lips and nodded. 

“Do you fucking forgive me or what?”

That caught Theon by surprise. “For… like, _everything?”_

“Getting addicted and being a piece of shit about it.” Ramsay stared, looking furious, and took a drag. 

“Alright… I am still afraid of your dad,” Theon admitted instead. 

“No shit, dumbfuck!” Ramsay laughed. “It’s all over your stupid face! Now answer the question.” A puff of smoke streamed up from Ramsay’s open grin. 

“Yeah, I guess I did a while ago. I’m happy that you’re better.”

“Ha, I knew it! You were miserable without me! You cried about me to your therapist and did that fucked self-flagellation exercise with your pretend girlfriend because you knew you should come back.”

“And what were you doing?” Theon snapped. “You didn’t call me either, asshole.”

With a shrug, Ramsay rolled his head back and exhaled another bloom of swirling smoke. “You know the saying: if you love someone let them go-”

“That is not what happened.”

“Oh? _Isn’t it?”_

“No!” Theon hated that he was laughing. “And I didn’t come back to you.”

“Oh? _Didn’t you?”_

“It’s not clever to pose those stupid rhetorical questions.”

“Oh? _Isn’t it?”_

“Haha, shut- _shit!_ ” Theon threw down his cigarette and stamped it out.

“Have you wasted enough of my time yet?” Roose Bolton’s low voice cut through the crisp air. “Theon, our overdue reunion is off to a disappointing start. Get inside.”

When Ramsay found Theon looking to _him_ , searching _his_ eyes and waiting, his last lingering doubts laid down to die. “I’m sorry, Father,” he said, feeling good-natured. “Come on, you heard him,” he laughed and slung an arm around Theon. “It’s so late for a senior citizen to be driving, Father. What are you doing here?”

In the doorway, Roose stood, impassive but he couldn’t deplete the warmth between them. Until Ramsay saw the briefcase.

His father sat on the leather couch and pulled the briefcase into his lap. “Let’s get this over with. How much will it take, Theon?”

“Excuse me?” He froze by Ramsay’s side.

“How much do I have to pay you to leave now?”

“Fuck you,” Ramsay muttered.

“Why do you persist in harassing your mother, Ramsay? Really, haven’t you caused the poor woman enough suffering?”

The expression on Ramsay’s face would be the last thing Roose Bolton ever saw if only he was anyone else.

Now that Ramsay had short-circuited on rage, Roose felt free to continue. “How much do I have to pay you to leave now before more damage is done?”

“Damage?”

“You’re going to leave again and we both know it. Ramsay has built a useful life for himself in your absence so I’d much rather you didn’t kill or ruin my only living son. You need a way out of,” he gestured lazily in Ramsay’s direction, “that mess? Or maybe you want some kind of compensation for your suffering? For your silence? Here I am with your golden ticket.”

One click, then another, and Mr. Bolton opened his briefcase to offer Theon piles of neatly wrapped bills.

“300,000 is enough for a nice house and car.”

With effort, Ramsay managed to bite out, _“Why?”_

Slowly, Roose targeted Ramsay with his light gray eyes. “Do you think I want to pick up the mess he left again?”

“It wasn’t him!”

Roose sighed and closed the case. “You’re becoming emotional.”

“It was Domeric! Your precious fucking angel, _Domeric!_ HE had the pain pills after he fell off the fucking pony-”

“Ramsay,” Roose warned softly, unmoved.

“-you bought that spoiled cunt while I _worked_ for you! Risking my life and body for you! I was a **_child_ **-”

Roose held up a finger, which cut Ramsay’s tirade short. “Be careful with what you say next. How much do you want your plaything to know?”

Ramsay went white and clutched his face with both hands.

“Now consider what _I_ need to know and what you and I have discussed already. Do you remember?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Hands falling away from his face, Ramsay hissed _“Father”_ like it was a curse.

Gesturing to Theon now, Roose said, “I want to know if he can help you behave yourself or if letting him back into your life is throwing gasoline on a smoldering fire. You’ll remember that I’m skeptical that he _isn’t_ a liability and you’re hoping to convince me otherwise. You should also remember that there are exactly three ways this can end, only one of which you want.” 

Father’s patient concern choked Ramsay. Though his face was solemn his eyes danced, gorging on every instant and flavor of Ramsay’s agony. “I. Remember.”

“Alysane did _me_ the favor of sending him to our firm after hours. Did you remember that also? Because this has been a poor show of gratitude. I told you how concerned I am for your well being-”

Ramsay threw his hands up. “Oh, _PLEASE!”_

“-yet you ignore my calls all weekend. Of course, I had to come over. Sit down and be quiet or go wait in your room.”

“My fucking gods…” Ramsay stood spinning, incoherent with bottled anger. 

With a light touch on the arm, Theon brought him back. Theon’s eyebrows popped saying, _what are we gonna do?_

“I’ll get us all a drink,” Ramsay decided. “Go sit down and be good.” He pinched Theon’s chin a bit too hard and headed for the kitchen, hands in his pockets. 

“Fine.” Roose waited for Theon to take a seat. “What happened to his hand?”

“He cut it in a... disagreement.”

Roose sighed through his smooth nose at the answer he expected. 

Now that Theon could see him up close and in the light, it struck him how Mr. Bolton hadn’t aged at all. Almost looked younger in his modern cut crimson pullover and black chinos.“Theon?”

Wrestling with himself, Theon kneaded the back of his neck. 

“I’m open to negotiation but my patience has worn paper-thin. Speak now, it’s time for an actual decision.”

Panicked and resigned, Theon clasped his hands in his lap. Ramsay’s smell hugged Theon from his borrowed jacket. “Thank you, Mr. Bolton…”

Roose raises his eyebrows expectantly. A cork popped in the kitchen. 

“... but we’re engaged.”

Roose blinked a few times. “If you had told me twenty years ago that Ramsay would be a practicing attorney, I would have scoffed at the idea. Doctors diagnosed him with everything; first ADHD, bipolar disorder, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, autism at one point. I’ve always known the real issue, of course but his mother is a nurse, so she was determined to find a diagnosis and treatment plan. Finally, the best experts I could afford settled on Conduct Disorder. It only confirmed what I knew all along, and convinced his mother only I could deal with him. I thought he’d never see a worthwhile long term goal through, being constitutionally incapable of caring about anything long enough. Do you know what changed my mind? Why I gambled hundreds of thousands of dollars on his degrees? Do you know what he fought for year after year, after year, through every unfortunate girlfriend and one night stand, through rehab and relapse?”

As they heard Ramsay returning, Roose let his pointed questions linger. Only after they all took a glass and had a drink did he continue. “I know Ramsay’s plans. What are yours?”

In Theon’s mind, a series of loose, transparent images appeared and disappeared. Only one thing remained clear. “I don’t know, Mr. Bolton. I washed ashore with nothing really. I want… the good version of being with Ramsay. I think that’s what I want for my life.”

Roose closed his briefcase and set it down on the floor beside him. “I want some identification H. R. can use to clear him.”

“I have it upstairs, Father. I’d be happy to get it for you now.”

“Fine, then this wouldn’t have been a total waste of my time. You did good work on the divorce settlement, Ramsay. Frey appreciated the work; he’s a good man to keep happy. Take tomorrow off and get him some proper clothes and a respectable haircut then bring him into work Tuesday. I’d like to see if he can actually stop you from terrorizing the firm.”

“Absolutely.” Ramsay set his glass down and left to fetch the papers Father wanted.

“Did you hear that, Theon? We’ve had five good employees quit this month, and that’s with him trying to control himself.”

“But I… I can’t control him, sir.”

“Oh, can’t you?” Roose’s smile is nearly imperceptible. “I hope you would have come to my funeral.”

“Mr. Bolton?”

“I hope you have considered that I spent more time and energy on you than Balon and Eddard combined. It disappointed me when you didn’t come to Domeric’s funeral. Did Ramsay lie about Domeric the pills? Tell me quickly, don’t lie.”

“He wasn’t lying. Domeric sold them to Ramsay and the… after that. He needed money for a violin or something-” he stopped when Mr. Bolton raised his hand. 

“Unfortunate.” 

Ramsay thundered down the stairs and appeared with Theon’s birth certificate and passport. “It’s been lovely catching up, but I’m sure you’re exhausted, Father.”

“Yes,” Roose murmured, accepting the documents. “So? When is the wedding?”


	15. System

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out to my buddies for beta reading this and letting me know what didn't make sense! <3 
> 
> Thank you!!

Snow sparkled in the morning sun all over the northern landscape. When Ramsay picked a fight on the way down to Winterfell’s shopping district, Theon knew his first trip out of the house in -however many days it had been- would suck. 

“What are you sulking about now?” Ramsay’s blue-black Ray-Bans contrasted against his skin, glowing white in the winter light, perfectly natural in his professionally distressed leather jacket.

“I’m sitting here.” Theon reached over to turn up the heat but Ramsay slapped his hand away. “This wasn’t my idea, Ramsay. Why are you mad at me?”

“You’re the one giving me the silent treatment.”

“I am not.” Theon sank further into Ramsay’s jacket, feeling like an avoidant turtle.

“You haven’t said a fucking thing, Theon. What else do you call that?”

“I don’t know what to say about your work stories yet. I’m sure all those people are stupid assholes, like you said, and that you’re right about everything.” 

“Was that so hard?”

Theon rubbed his eyes. “Come on, man. I only got, like, three hours of sleep last night and everything has been so crazy since I came here. Why the fuck did you say we were getting married?”

“We already talked about that.”

Theon shook his head as if to wake himself up. “Excuse me? What- you think that’s _it?”_

Ramsay ran a red light.

Theon groaned and held his forehead. “Please don’t do that.”

“There’s no one else on the road. Who am I stopping for?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Have I ever been in an accident?”

“Probably. Ow!” Theon bent and protected his poor stomach with both hands. “I bet you have and bet you got away with it.”

“Well, that wouldn’t count then, would it?”

“That’s what I thought.” Theon jumped into the passenger door when Ramsay hit him again. “Don’t you want a pretty dumb thing you can manipulate instead of marrying me? I know you too well, you can’t bullshit me.”

Though he didn’t take his sunglasses off, Theon could see Ramsay’s eyes sliding over and twinkling from the smirk on his face. “Oh? _Can’t I?”_

“Fuck you.”

“It’s a compliment; you’re the _perfect_ amount of gullible idiot.”

The new day passed by Theon’s window as he chewed his bottom lip. “Ramsay, listen…”

“Uh oh.”

“I think we need to talk. This has been way too much, too fucking fast. Are you-”

Ramsay sneezed and swerved into the opposing lane. 

_“Shit!”_ By the time Theon braced himself, Ramsay had already swerved back. 

“Sorry, that’s embarrassing. I’ve developed this terrible allergy to whining.”

_“Whining?!”_

“Yeah.” Ramsay sniffed. “Like that.”

Slumped in his seat, Theon decided not to push it. He remembered how close Ramsay could get to oncoming traffic. How funny he thought it was. Ramsay had won every game of chicken he’d ever played. He won everything eventually.

Ramsay gagged, curling forward. “Oh, no!”

“God, _what_ now _?”_

“I’m pout-intolerant.”

Theon hid his face in both hands and sighed. 

“Your pouting is making me nauseous.” The car jerked again, and a car horn blared at them. 

“All right fine!” Theon threw his hands up. “What? What do you want?”

“Say something nice to make me feel better.”

“You have a handsome boyfriend.”

“ _Fiance_. Remember?”

“I love you.”

“That’s nice.”

“I love that you’re so stable, gentle, easy-going, tan, tall-” Ramsay punched his stomach so hard, Theon doubled over, hitting the dashboard with his forehead. 

Slowly, Theon sat up and rubbed his face. His hair stuck up, standing alarmed above his head.

“Seven hells, Theon, you are a fucking mess. Get yourself together, we’re here.” 

Theon squinted at the building in front of them. “Oh, no way.”

While Theon blinked, trying to adjust his dilated eyes he searched for Ramsay. Even though Ramsay smothered him, coming into the exam room as if Theon were a child and laughing at his difficulty taking eye drops (it’s called good reflexes), losing sight of Ramsay proved uncomfortable. 

“Here, let me see.” Ramsay reappeared and put another set of frames on Theon’s face. 

“Where’d you go?”

“I had to take a fucking call. Oh, baby. That’s it. They’re gods damned perfect.”

Over Ramsay’s shoulder, Theon caught his reflection. “I look like a dork. I don’t want glasses!”

“Don’t make me nauseous,” Ramsay warned. Then he wrapped an arm around Theon’s shoulders and softened his tone. “You’re too chickenshit to wear contacts and you want to work outside the house so you’ll just have to look cute as fuck for me, puppy. Unless you want to stay at home?”

“No…”

“Because we can do that too. Are you happy just being my fuck toy, sweetheart?”

“No,” Theon glanced around but didn’t find anyone staring. “I want to go to work with you.”

“Well, then we need you to read, don’t we?” He slapped Theon’s ass and waved at a salesperson while he turned red. “This pair.” Ramsay handed over his credit card. 

“Sure. I’ll ring that right up for you. It should be ready by six o’clock.”

“Super.” He turned to Theon smiling. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, Ramsay.”

“Now give daddy a kiss.”

“Mr. Greyjoy?” The optometrist poked her head through the door behind them. She held a manilla folder in one hand by her hip. “Let’s take a look at those retinas and then you can get out of here.”

Theon followed but Ramsay pulled him back and stamped a kiss on his blushing cheek before letting him go. 

Lighter and warmer, Theon hung close to Ramsay’s side, following him through high-end stores at the Waterfront. The sun began setting behind the North’s thick blanket of clouds, though it was still too early for dinner. 

Theon would never admit it, but he hated the Iron Islands. In fact, he only missed the sound and sight of the vast, furious sea. He felt more at home in the North and only resented its bitter winters when night came to swallow the sun in the late afternoon. 

By the time they came back to get Theon’s glasses, they’d filled half of Ramsay’s backseat with shopping bags. He’d paw at Theon in every store they stopped at, doing micro impressions of people they interacted with when no one else was looking and talking shit in Theon’s ear so that he kept biting his tongue not to laugh. The moment they walked into the optometrist’s, Ramsay wrapped an arm around Theon’s neck.

After a brief wait, a technician waved them over but Theon didn’t notice. On a glossy poster in front of him, an athletic 20 something with a creamy olive complexion grinned at Theon from behind the same kind of huge jet black sunglasses Theon used to wear to navigate the world hungover or strung out. Theon could hear the rip and growl of a motorcycle engine from the way his hair blew back as city lights blurred behind him. 

“Hey.” Ramsay pulled at Theon’s flexing bicep, fingertips digging in. “Did you hear me?”

“Sorry.”

Ramsay kept a hand at the base of Theon’s neck as the salesman with manicured nails and a thick beard opened a smooth glasses case and slid it across the glass desk to Theon. “Here you go! See what you think.”

Theon slowly reached out and plucked the frame with two fingers. He bit his lip and slid the glasses onto his face. Reluctantly, he stole a glance at the oval mirror aimed at his head and died inside. His eyes looked bigger somehow, which he would not have thought possible. His nose shrank under the frames into a little triangle. He looked like a fucking _dork_ and a child.

_“Baby.”_

Theon glared at Ramsay, but he was not about to burst out laughing. Instead, another expression made Ramsay’s eyes bloom dark and cheeks flush. 

“What... you _like_ it?”

“I fucking love it.”

“How does it fit?” The salesman’s voice echoed distantly. Even outside of his house, Ramsay’s presence brought with it an inescapable dreamlike quality. 

“Um, it’s a little tight.”

“Here, we’ll get that nice and comfortable for you.” The salesman took the glasses back and went away with them to make an adjustment. 

When Theon said he was happy, the salesman dropped a spray bottle of glass cleaner, a soft cloth, and paperwork for the warranty into a plastic bag with the store’s logo. The glasses case clapped shut like a gunshot before he dropped that in as well. 

“It looks like the floor is coming up at me.”

“I can’t believe you weren’t wearing glasses before,” the salesman laughed, shaking his head, probably giddy about his fucking commission. “It’s quite a change.” 

Ramsay took the plastic bag and slid his arm around Theon’s neck as soon as he stood up. 

“It won’t take long to adjust.” The salesman stood as well and shook Ramsay’s hand.

“I’m a little dizzy,” Theon mumbled.

“I got you,” Ramsay said, low and close to his neck. 

Ramsay decided that Theon wanted to change into his new, expensive clothes so Theon ended up in the mall fumbling around in the handicap stall in the men’s restroom by the food court. He tore off tags and stickers while Ramsay took a phone call.

When he pushed through the stall door carrying a shopping bag with his old clothes, only the mirror stood there to greet him. 

“Holy fucking shit.” He looked at himself, trying to adjust to what he was seeing. The detail of color and texture he could make out in his hair almost distracted from the way he looked now. There was a word for the change, some terrible word he couldn’t yet name. 

When Theon emerged transformed into the food court, he didn’t see Ramsay in the sea of passing faces. He’d probably gone outside to hear better. His job really didn’t leave him alone, which made Ramsay seem so adult and important. What if he was waiting for Theon to come outside looking for him? But if Theon went out looking for Ramsay and they missed each other… _What?_ Theon demanded of himself. 

With a huff, Theon took a seat on a nearby metal chair, dropping the bag of clothes he wore on his trip to the North; the only belongings he’d brought to the mainland, between his feet. He stared at his bright new shoes, nowhere near as flashy or shitty as what he would have bought. _What am I doing?_

“Theon?”

He looked up smiling but Theon’s face quickly distorted. He had to blink before he believed it. “Robb?”

“I didn’t think it was you either. I’m still not sure, even this close.”

“Ha,” Theon choked. “You look great.” He did. So filled out, fully a fucking man now. He had a job and family and everything a real adult should have.

“You look,” Robb slowly shook his head, “so… domesticated.”

Theon stood at once. “Excuse the fuck out of me?”

“I didn’t mean that as an insult. You look sober. I’m glad.”

Theon frowned. “Of course, I’m sober. What does that even-”

“Sansa told me what happened with Kyra.”

Theon paled. “Nothing happened.”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

“Oh.”

“Gods,” Robb still shook his head. “I just… when I saw you I thought, there is no fucking way. Everything about you is so-”

 _“What?”_ Theon tried to grin, but his jaw clenched.

“- together,” Robb decided. Maybe married life had gifted him a little tact, even if he used it after the damage was done. 

“Yeah, well, I am together so, thanks.”

“That lawsuit really set Kyra back.”

“Hey.” Ramsay grabbed Theon’s shoulder and Theon crashed into him, wrapping tight around his chest. 

“Hey,” Theon sighed into Ramsay’s shirt. 

“I got you a drink.” He squeezed Theon’s back. “Hello, Bobby.”

Theon pulled away in time to see Robb’s perfect face wrinkle. He took the iced latte Ramsay offered. 

“I thought you’d left,” Robb admitted, frowning openly at Ramsay.

“I bet. Waited for me to leave, huh? Typical. He’s always trying to talk to my clients without me in the room.”

“Maybe you should stop defending pieces of shit.”

“I’m sure you meant to say that you are absolutely as committed to due process as I am, Officer Stark.”

Robb burned red around his freckles.

“All right then, it was nice to uh- well... we saw you.” Ramsay snatched Theon’s bag off the floor.

“I’m meeting someone, anyway.”

“I bet you are.” 

“Theon-”

“Bye, Bobby,” Ramsay interrupted. 

Robb frowned and turned on his heel, leaving them. 

Theon hid his face in Ramsay’s chest and mumbled. “He said I look _domesticated_.” 

Ramsay giggled and pulled him along toward the parking lot. “People change, Theon.”

“Yeah.” Theon sipped the iced latte and pressed into Ramsay’s side. He didn’t object when Ramsay tossed his old clothes into a garbage bin.

Ramsay pinched Theon’s chin and squeezed his shoulders as they walked out into the biting cold. “Let’s have a lovely dinner before we go home. You should probably go to bed early to be ready for tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Theon muttered. “Tomorrow…”

Ramsay grabbed Theon’s jaw as he sucked at his drink. “And I cannot fucking wait to tear you apart tonight. _Glasses on.”_


End file.
